Three Drunk Decisions I’ll Make That Will Make Me Go Bankrupt

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Three Drunk Decisions I'll Make That Will Make Me Go Bankrupt

Someone once told me, “A lot of us are only one drunk mistake away from being homeless.” And he’s right, because 63% of Americans wouldn’t be able to afford a $500 car repair or a $1,000 emergency room visit per a study done by Despite the fact that I fall into that luxurious 37% of Americans that can actually afford it, there are a lot of decisions one can make that can rack up some pretty hefty bills, and I’m not talking about dropping $10,000 on a DUI.

Taking an Uberchopper the first chance I’ll get.

If it’s after the midnight hour and the option to take an Uberchopper back to my house pops up on my phone, I’m not not going to take an Uberchopper home. And for someone that’s never ridden in a helicopter, I could easily see myself urging the pilot to give me a tour of the city like I’m about to enter Jurassic Park for the first time.

Much like when it’s 4x surge pricing, I’d probably think to myself, “Oh, it won’t end up being that much money when it’s all said and done,” only to check my receipt once I enter my residence to realize that I just got absolutely shelled.

Frankly, I don’t even know how Uberchopper works. Do I have to download a new app? Do I need to sign a release form? Do I have to get breathalyzed beforehand? All I do know is that the second one of my friends says, “Dude, should we Uberchopper?” that I’ll be the first person in line with my phone out ready to Snapchat, Instagram, and Tweet it so everyone knows that I was riding in an Uber-fucking-chopper. And for a guy who cringes at the 75% up-charge on Lyfts, Uberchoppers just don’t seem to be in the budget when I wake up with pillow creases on my face and my pants still on (but unbuttoned, at least) from the night before.

Jokingly tipping $1 million on a bar tab.

There’s something about getting hammered that really makes me enjoy thinking that money isn’t an option and people’s emotions don’t exist. This has happened multiple times, but there’s photographic evidence of it from when I went to the Vegas of The North — Mackinac Island in Northern Michigan.

All fun and games until Mint emails you about your overdraft fees.

A photo posted by @willdefries on

When I woke up wearing only a sailor hat and a Lilly Pulitzer tie, I found the above receipt crumpled up in my pocket. Sure, I was joking when I wrote that down, but I could easily see myself drunkenly leaving that receipt on the table after murdering batches of Miami Vices before tossing some vodka-waters down the gullet while a cover band rocked out some Van Morrison. And sure, when they run my card at the end of the night trying to collect on their seven-figure tip, it will deny them due to insufficient funds. But I don’t know the legalities behind that should they decide to take me to court looking for their money. Lord knows I can’t afford a good lawyer, which is the same reason I Uber instead of drunk drive.

And yes, I used to chew my nails. Get off me.

Luxurious drunk and/or hungover purchases that I think I can swing.

I like bougie things when I’m hungover. It’s my Achilles heel. Expensive shades, lobster, champagne, perfectly manicured lawns, swimming pools, overly-expensive body lotion, sports betting, whitewashed porches, club sandwiches from country clubs, you name it. Just the other day, I parlayed a hangover into a Nordstrom trip where I unexpectedly dropped way too much money on a linen shirt and a salmon nicoise salad at Nordstrom Bistro before I got home and realized how much of an idiot I was for spending that type of money. Luckily for me, Nordstrom has probably the loosest return policy of all time.

But what about the stores that don’t have a no-questions-asked return policy? What if I desperately buy some $350 Persols in a pinch before going out on a boat for the day, only to lose them and have to buy another pair the very next morning because the first pair addicted me to luxury? That’s not something I can sustain.

I mean, what if I’m hungover and someone takes me to their country club’s pool for the day? You can’t expect me to not love it and get a membership of my own with them acting as my sponsor, right? The next thing I know, there’s going to be a debt collector trying to take me to the cleaners for the $20,000 dues that I can’t afford.

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