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Last Friday I shit my pants
Here’s to those who observe strict cocktail hours, from 5 p.m. sharp until last call. Thank you, Happy Hour heroes.
The rest of us owe these marathon binge drinkers a great debt of gratitude. Sustaining themselves on nothing but tortilla chips and buffet chicken wings, these Friday Night knights in coats of sport have the courage to begin their evenings hours earlier than those who feel it necessary to go home after work and change, nap or shower.
If it were not for the Happy Hour hero, who would call you at 7:30 p.m. and remind you that you are, indeed, a pussy.
Thanks to those who turn a few beers after work into a Grey Goose-fueled blackout, Happy Hour heroes test their limits every weekend. The rest of us should be ashamed to be content with simply "going out", as opposed to the biological feats these hardened heroes pull off week in and week out.
When their ties are loosened and their sportcoats are on the floor of a corner booth, Happy Hour heroes rule the roost until they can no longer speak. These brave, drunk men are the ones who creep out any woman they approach and force them to talk to the lesser men who watched a few hours of TV after work and put on some jeans before hitting the bars.
Thank you, Happy Hour heroes, for buying the entire bar a round of shots. At least that’s what we think you said. And thanks to the credit card you will leave behind at the bar, we will always remember your name.
In the trenches longer than a full day’s work, thank you Happy Hour heroes for fighting the good fight against unconsciousness. By all means, rest for awhile. You’ve earned it. Lay your head down in that comfy ash tray. As God as my witness, no one will be allowed near your forehead with a permanent marker.
Happy Hour heroes, your breath may be heavy and strong from a long night of Marlboro Lights and well gin, but It is not offensive to anyone who knows of your quest. That smell of decay is merely a reminder to the rest of us that you get more done before midnight than the rest of us can accomplish all night.
Happy Hour heroes, even though the bartender, who you thought was your new friend, turned against you after he slipped in your vomit, don’t loose sight of your duty. He, like you say, is indeed a dick, and is incapable of understanding the life of a man with the courage to begin his night at 5 p.m.
Even though he’s been serving you water for an hour, Happy Hour hero, do you think a mere bartender would be in better shape after 13 gimlets on a stomach full of nothing but hours-old cocktail wieners? Hush now, that doesn’t make any sense, but I’m sure a few hours ago you would have belted out a hearty, “Fuck no!”
For all you do, Happy Hour hero, from the bottom of our hearts, we thank you. Now it’s time to go. Get up off the floor. You’ve ruined your suit.
Great article, it reads like a narration of every one of my buddy's weekends. Acts of perpetual drinking should be rewarded, not scorned by our politically correct society.
Ben
Good beginning to a Friday
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Posted: 7/8/2005 6:51:08 AM
That was one of the funniest articles I've read in a while. Just the phrases "comfy ashtray" and "Hush now, that doesn't make any sense..." cracked me up. Keep up the good work.
steve
sounds familiar...
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Posted: 7/8/2005 8:18:01 AM
This sounds like a Bud Light commercial.
Mike Okitches
Good Times
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Posted: 7/8/2005 8:33:53 AM
Beware, the 12 Stoli on the rocks lead you into believing Man Hands is cute enough to take home. She's not, she's got Man Hands dammit! And for the late night rendezvous, take your Coyote Ugly woman to the Legion. Cheap Drinks, Cheaper Drunks and all around good times.
Tom A
5:00?
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Posted: 7/8/2005 9:22:33 AM
Who waits until 5:00?
There's nothing like ruining an entire weekend by "starting it out right."
Good stuff, Ben.
kyle
finally some respect!
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Posted: 7/8/2005 9:57:41 AM
Thank you for writing this great tribute to these people....truly american heroes in my mind. I've been campaigning how much easier a night out will be if the slow transition is made during the 5 to 7 HH spot.
The bartender deserves to slip in the puke too....fucker...all i want is a free beer or shot once in awhile....i'm there 5 GD days a week, give me some respect for christsakes
gtiller
funny funny shit
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Posted: 7/8/2005 10:04:38 AM
This is so damn true and a fitting tribute to the "warriors of the early evening"
The Orlando Puke Knight
How about the conference binge drinkers..
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Posted: 7/8/2005 10:08:22 AM
Let us not forget the fictional few who, when on business travel, start the trip right by getting shit faced within 2 hours of stepping off the plane. So shit faced that they are incapacitated for the subsequent 36 hours, and unable to attend the very thing they flew down there for in the first fucking place. Ahhhh... a shout out to the Sheraton Safari in Orlando, your Long Island Ice Teas, the sweet nectar of enebriation. They taste even better coming back up!
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