At a great party this weekend, as it finished around eleven, three friends were discussing what to do next. At my age: sleep. But these ladies are in their mid-twenties. So they started discussing bars near the Plaza.
“Granfalloons? Tomfooleries? The Peanut?”
For some reason they turned to me and asked what I thought.
What I said: “Um…Granfalloons?”
What I wish I said: “I don’t know if I ever got a single good thing out of staying out late. It looks like a party but it’s really just a 128-ounce bag of Doritos. You eat the whole thing…you can’t stop…and when you finish, you ask yourself with remorse, ‘Why did I do that?!”
Even if you don’t drink to excess, you end up wasting a huge chunk of the next day. It’s expensive in calories, time, money—and your personal happiness.
You’re all in your twenties—I’ll bet you $500 you won’t find a date you’ll actually like. You go with artificial hope and leave with nothing.
There are 10,000 other things you could do. Sign up for: sports leagues. Something in lit, music, or the arts. Something in business. Something where you save children or stray dogs.
The bar is like a lottery ticket: you feel excited buying it, and five minutes later, you got nothing.
I just feel like our society doesn’t even really promote this happiness crusher—but for some reason, it lumbers on, invincible. Probably because the human body metabolizes alcohol faster than it metabolizes sugar—and it burns through sugar faster than everything else there is. (In other words, the #1 reason is biological.)
I need to get better at promoting viable alternatives to people, because all of this stuff flashed through my mind in an instant. Oh well. Mental note: next time. Maybe I can hand out flyers for sports leagues?!