You get your bar trivia and your ukulele open mic nights, but Tuesday is very much the Angels and Airwaves of nights out; it has a feel, you sorta get it, but not as close to what you know a night out could be capable of.
A Wednesday hangover effectively negates any humpday momentum, and being knowledgeable about the Tuesday bar scene is an open admission of alcoholism. Not too many positives.
Sunday day is always a decent time, particularly during football season — when two guys really care about the game, and everyone else only attends because they might have a shot with Alex, and daytime flirting lets them know you’re safe and non-threatening.
A Sunday night rage session is most certainly the most depressing of any day of the week (it’s the time where you should be getting your shit together, not staging a Bieber-esque meltdown), but it’s also the night most likely to play out like an episode of It’s Always Sunny In Philadelphia.
If you’re going in accepting the fact that life is kinda shitty, there’s a huge amount of potential here.
Monday has that same Sunday vibe, but it’s compounded by the fact that every Monday, 56% of the workforce decides that they’re gonna quit their job.
This fanatical, short-lived energy makes for tremendous “I’m being swallowed by The Man” conversations, which are always made better when accentuated by an unintentionally aggressive beer-on-table slams. Don’t underestimate the Monday.
In college, Wednesday was my favorite night to go out. Bars always had tremendous population density (not too packed, but always a solid amount of people), and everyone who was out wanted to be out — on a college Wednesday, you don’t get the sorts of people who only go out because they feel like they need to fulfill some sort of well-meaning but inevitably misinterpreted “15 Crazy Things You Should Get Out Your System In College” narrative.
Postgrad Wednesdays are definitely not as close to as quality. But there’s still that “ok, we’re more than halfway done with this terrible stretch” magic in the air. You’ve got some serious energy to release. And if you’re not in a Limp Bizkit coverband, aggressive after-work drinks could be a solid move.
I gotta say — I didn’t hate Rebecca Black’s take on Saturday. Obviously a cameo from Patrice “Beethoven” Wilson was sorely missed, but not too shabby.
Where Saturday fails is Sunday morning. Getting things done on Sunday morning is one of the top 5 greatest feelings in life (right behind discovering a new song, playing it on repeat, and then promptly ruining it), and an eventful Saturday can oftentimes completely quash that Sunday morning glory.
Also, if you’ve gone out any of the previous 2 nights, it can sometimes be rather tough to, as the kids say, “rally.”
If the week is about buckling down and earning enough money to buy a pair of jeans and wraps that contain avocado, the weekend is about trying as hard as humanly possible to actually live. This is the type of energy that infiltrates every Friday; an energy that can power even the most bah of humbugs to an unexpectedly memorable evening.
Friday night is the night when people out to prove themselves. Clear eyes, full hearts, let’s booze.
Thursdays were always “the night” in college. Since Friday classes are few and far between, if at all existent, Thursday nights were the opportune time for snapback-wearing sorority members to apologize for not being sorry.
In the postgrad arena, Thursdays garner all the qualities of a college Wednesday. There’s a considerable energy in the air, and pushing the limits is at once daring, but at the same time safe. Aggressive Thursdays let other people know that you “don’t give a fuck,” but also enable you to continue to somewhat sneakily give a fuck; the entire point of Fridays is to continuously push the limits of mailing it in, so a crippling hangover could only further that cause.
So, there ya go. Dream big, stay safe, eat a burrito. Only splurge on the guac when it feels right. No need to force the issue.