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It’s 1:55am. The harsh, burning rays of the bar dance floor’s “ugly” lights have signaled to all disparate partygoers that the fun is done. You and your two brothers in arms have struck out all night long, but your absurd levels of intoxication have somehow convinced you that there is hope yet to salvage this night. Most “normal” people would probably have called it quits by this point and would be at home face deep in some greasy concoction of goodness (or their lover’s bosom), but not you. Not yet. Having spent Monday through Friday alternating between slaving away at a desk and cry-masturbating yourself to sleep, there’s no way you are going home alone tonight. Sure, the last several times time you did this, you ended up with nothing but regret, an empty wallet, and a missing phone, but you tell yourself that tonight will be different. Tonight will be magical.
Fast forward to 10:37am. You wake up in your bed, alone, fully clothed (shoes included), reeking of pizza grease and bodily fluids. You can’t remember what happened, so you roll over and check your phone to see if you can glean some evidence. As you parse through the electronic evidence, the trail of havoc starts to unfold…
As chronicled in an iconic How I Met Your Mother episode, nothing good ever happens after 2am. So why do we constantly convince ourselves that, despite the time having expired on the clock and the game being over, we can still drain that game winning shot? Below is a list of some possible outcomes, should you choose to keep the party raging until the wee hours of the morning.
1. You hit up that sketchy late, late night bar, get even more blacked out, proceed to throw yourself at anything with a pulse, have your phone stolen, and end up stranded in the streets at 5am in the morning. You try to Über a ride home, but then realize you need a phone to do that.
2. In an blacked out moment of clarity, you dial every female contact in your phone that has even slightly tickled your fancy and leave a barely discernible voicemail explaining what the shocker is (two in the pink, one in the stink), and asking if they’re interested. (Note: true story)
3. You end up at a strip club. Alone. This just never works out well. Ever.
4. You go to the nearest greasy food joint and, after having consumed a couple thousand calories of garlic breadsticks, decide to start spitting game at some girl who is clearly with another guy. This leads to a verbal warning, which, with your contributions, somehow transitions into a full blown fist/slap fight. Nobody wins.
5. You find the love of your life, spend the next few months in blissful courtship, and eventually have two beautiful kids, a house, and the best manicured lawn in the neighborhood.
Thus, all improbable outcomes aside, we should remember to heed Gandhi’s timeless warning: “You try hard, you die hard.” Just go home. Don’t think…just do it. Retreat to the security of your apartment knowing that you will be a better person for having done so.
11:30PM is the new 2AM.
Bars in Indy don’t close until 3 am. The 2 am Drill is when the magic happens. Or at least one more solid hour of spending money you really shouldn’t spend.
Every time I go out hard I always end up rocking the fucking Casba until the lights turn on.
*In A blacked out moment.
Not “an.”
So a capital “A?”
So you’re saying there’s a 20% chance I meet the love of my life after 2 am? That’s a frighteningly high number, considering.
God willing, soldier
Sure, the game is over at 2 AM. But I like to think the after bar house party is Overtime. So game on, players!
5. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zMRrNY0pxfM
^ This guy