The Five Levels of Drinking
LEVEL 1: It's 11pm on a weeknight, you've had a
few beers.
Just as you get up to leave because you have to work the next
day, one of your friends buys another round -- one of your
*unemployed* friends. Here, at level one, you think to
yourself, "Oh come on, this is silly, as long as I get
seven hours of sleep, I'll be fine."
LEVEL 2: It's midnight. You've had a few more beers.
You've just spent 20 minutes arguing against the use
of artificial turf. You get up to leave again, but at level
two, a little devil appears on your shoulder. And now you're
thinking, "Hey! I'm out with my friends! What
am I working for anyway? These are the good times! Besides,
as long as I get five hours of sleep, I'm cool."
LEVEL 3: 1am. You've abandoned beer for tequila.
You've just spent 20 minutes arguing FOR the use of
artificial turf. And now you're thinking, "Our
waitress is the most beautiful woman I've ever seen!"
At level three, you love the world. On the way to the bathroom,
you buy a drink for the stranger at the end of the bar just
because you like his face. You get drinking fantasies (like,
"Hey fellas, if we bought our own bar, we could live
together forever. We could do it. Tommy, you could cook.").
But at level three, that devil is a little bit bigger...
and he's buying. And you're thinking, "Oh,
come on, come on now. As long as I get three hours of sleep...
and a complete change of blood, I'm cool."
LEVEL 4: 2am. And the devil is bartending.
For last call, you ordered a bottle of rum and a Coke. You
ARE artificial turf!
This time, on your way to the bathroom, you punch the stranger
at the end of the bar just because you don't like his
face! And now you're thinking, "Our busboy is
the best looking man I've ever seen." You and
your friends decide to leave, right after you get thrown
out, and one of you knows an afterhours bar.
Here, at level four, you actually think to yourself, "Well...
as long as I'm only going to get a few hours sleep anyway,
I may as well stay up all night! Yeah! That'd be good
for me. I don't mind going to that board meeting looking
like Keith Richards. Yeah, I'll turn that around,
make it work for me. And besides, as long as I get 31 hours
sleep tomorrow, I'm cool."
LEVEL 5: 5am.
After unsuccessfully trying to get your money back at the
tattoo parlor ("But I don't even know anybody
named Simon!"), you and your friends wind up across
the state line in a bar with guys who have been in prison as
recently as... that morning. It's the kind of place
where even the devil is saying, "Uh, I gotta turn in.
I gotta be in Hell by nine."
At this point, you're all drinking some kind of thick
blue liquor, like something from a Klingon wedding. A waitress
with fresh stitches comes over, and you think to yourself,
"Someday I'm gonna marry that girl!" One
of your friends stands up and screams, "WE'RE
DRIVIN' TO VEGAS, BABY!!!!!" -- and passes out.
You crawl outside for air, and then you hit the worst part
of level 5 -- the sun. You weren't expecting that were
you? You never do. You walk out of a bar in daylight, and you
see people on their way to work or worse, jogging. And they
look at you and they know. And they say, "Who's
Simon?" Let's be honest, if you're 19 and
you stay up all night, it's like a victory -- you've
beat the night. But if you're over 30, then that sun
is like God's flashlight.
We all say the same prayer and then, "I swear, I will
never do this again as long as I live!" And some of us
have that little addition, "and this time, I mean
it!"
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