The Blur Between Happy Hour And Brunch

The Blur Between Happy Hour And Brunch

A hand lands on your shoulder, and with it comes a shot glass that you know will take you to the point of no return. You glance at your watch and see 12:45 a.m. staring right back at you. “It’s Friday,” you tell yourself as you clink glasses with the usual cast of characters. You tense up as the medicine washes through to your bones.

What started as a happy hour has escalated into a full blown night out. As you signal to the bartender for an ice water you mutter under your breath, “I’m too old for this shit.” You told yourself you would take it easy this Friday and save some cash for the bachelor party next weekend. Any chances of that happening went out the window with that well tequila shot. Grasping at straws, you find yourself with a case of bar ADD. You tell your friends. “I’m gonna do a lap and scout the talent for late night.” During your tour, you start to come to the sad realization that the night time just isn’t your game anymore.

Any attempt at a normal conversation stands no chance against the barrage of EDM roaring from the speakers. You are making a last effort to lock eyes with someone long enough to make some sort of an impact. No luck. As you round back to where you started, your Uber request is open and ready for request. Your buddies are nowhere to be found and the prospect of an Irish exit is looking more attractive by the second.

As you make your way out, you spot John with a girl in tow and throw him a salute on your way out the door. Your driver in the black Corolla lets you know he is in the valet line with his emergency lights on. As you hop in, conversational autopilot takes over as you mutter, “Thanks for waiting, how’s your night been?”

Pulling up to your apartment complex, you thank him and tell him to stay safe out there. During the elevator ride, you open up Favor and seriously contemplate paying $25 for a couple tacos. Without turning on a single light you head straight for the couch, telling yourself you will get up and brush your teeth in ten minutes.

Next thing you know, you are snapped awake to the sound of an incoming text message. Instinctually, you reach for a bottle of water that might have been there since last weekend and drink what’s left without hesitation. You open your eyes enough to scan the coffee table for the holy trinity – phone, keys, and wallet. You look pathetically claw for your phone to try and assess the damage. After three tries to scan your finger print, you give up and type in your passcode in frustration. You can’t help but laugh as you read your incoming text from John.

“Brunch in 30, non-negotiable.”

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My hobbies include day drinking and quoting rap lyrics at inappropriate times.

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