How To be The First Person At Happy Hour

image - Flickr / greg westfall
image – Flickr / greg westfall

Arrive at the bar, stand outside, and immediately check your phone.

Evaluate the last timestamp of each of your friend’s “On my way!” text messages from your group chat, along with how far they’re each travelling to get to the bar, and debate whether or not you should stand outside for 20 minutes waiting, or just start drinking already.

Decide that you would rather be drunk and alone with the potential creepers inside than to be asked for directions by tourists while standing out on the street sober like an easy target.

Order a drink at the bar and immediately have someone ask where your friends are/why you are alone/if someone has stood you up. Explain that you are meeting people who will be here shortly, and try your best to look unfriendly until your first friend finally gets there.

Sip on your third drink while your friend gets her first. Shoot the stranger who heckled you for being alone a “see I told you I have friends” look while your friend is opening a tab.

Listen to your friend start to talk about her latest boy drama. Spot your second friend walking in just as the story is finally getting to the juicy part (roughly 20 minutes in), and try not to scowl when your friend tells the latest arrival, “I’ll start from the beginning!”

Repeat this step three more times — twice for the two new friends who arrive, plus once more for the time that someone needed to be filled in on what she missed while she was in the bathroom.

Receive a frantic text message from the person in your group who still hasn’t shown, asking that someone order her a mixed drink before happy hour ends…in five minutes.

Try to flag the bartender down in time, but fail miserably because everyone at this bar has that same brilliant idea. Get the side-eye from your late friend when you try to explain.

Realize that you are way more intoxicated than all of your friends, since you’ve been drinking for approximately 20-45 minutes longer than everyone, and ask if anyone would want to order food.

Listen to the friend who showed up the latest tell you that she actually just ate the most delicious sandwich on her way over here. Have your other friends shoot down the food idea since they’re not as drunk as you, and therefore not as uninhibited about spending $12 on a greasy chicken finger platter.

Feel betrayed.

Start thinking about all of the food you could order from the comfort of your apartment. Plan out an exit strategy, highlighting the fact that you have been here longer and have consumed much more alcohol than anyone else.

Have the late friend who had time to grab the most delicious sandwich tell you, “No, you can’t leave! C’mon, I just got here!” Order another drink to numb the pain of your failed attempt.

Continue thinking about food when one of your friends suggests that you head to another bar. See this as your opportunity to bow out gracefully before you get any more wasted than you already are.

Let your friends convince you to have one more drink on the premise that you will all eat pizza together afterwards. Solidarity!

Three more drinks and a complimentary shot from the bartender (that you just couldn’t turn down) later, stumble out of the bar and into a cab, sans pizza.

Order Seamless during your ride home in a genius attempt to have the delivery man get to your apartment at the same time as your cab.

Arrive at your door with no sign of the delivery man. Crawl into bed and wait for him to buzz.

Wake up 5 hours later to 12 missed calls, three voicemails, and five angry texts from your delivery man, who tried to get you out of bed for a full 20 minutes before giving up.

Write a sincere apology email to Seamless in hopes of not being banned for life.

Drag your extremely hungover self into work, and vow to be the “late sandwich-grabbing friend” next time around. Thought Catalog Logo Mark

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