Last night I took advantage of the bonus weekend night to go to a “prom” at the Empty Bottle. I wore a secondhand green dress and stood in a corner fighting off emotional surges and wondering why I was trying to pretend to know how being around people works. So basically exactly like my real prom except eight years older, legally able to drink, and not in the throes of a horrific UTI. Also, the music was better. Exhibit A and Exhibit B from last night vs. Exhibit C from 2005, submitted for the jury’s consideration.
Bar tips from your friendly neighborhood lightweight:
– The walls of bar bathroom stalls are the proto-Internet. This observation has probably been made before by someone far more clever than I am, but it bears repeating.
Even in the seediest corners of the online world, it’s hard to find that elusive combination of camaraderie, vicious insults, misguided advice, social awareness, sexual innuendo, and existential dread in one place. It’s far rarer to be trapped with it rather than surfing away to a cat video immediately. Also, it’s a different experience to know that the people who wrote it were physically here, to wonder where they are now and if you’ll run into them on the street somewhere. I feel like this would be a valid subject for an anthropological study, or at least a Tumblr page.
– Photobooth pictures are inevitably awkward. Make them more awkward. The only way to win this game is to outdo it.
– If you have even the slightest inkling that your judgment is going to be impaired by alcohol, do yourself and everyone you’ve ever fucked a favor. Have a trustworthy friend confiscate your phone and not release it until you can pass a sobriety test. Sure, maybe you’ll Tweet something mildly witty when you’re just buzzed, but after that point the best-case scenario is that you’ll exchange sexts with someone you broke up with last decade, and the worst-case scenario is that you’ll text Feelings to someone you broke up with last week. (These situations are, of course, purely hypothetical.)
Also? Eggs for breakfast. I’m just saying.