Closing Down the Bar

You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here.

It’s A well-intentioned scenario we’re all too familiar with: An innocent happy hour turns into an epic night of fun and madness. Drinks are flowing, the jukebox is blasting, and you’re dancing you’re butt off. Before you know it, the bartender is yelling, “Last call!” but who cares?! This might very well be the best night of your life.

Then the lights come on. Suddenly you realize the hot ticket you’ve been chatting up all night isn’t all that (and let’s be real, you’re looking like a hot mess, too). You awkwardly exchange numbers you know you’ll never use, and dash toward the exit. You wake up the next morning unsure of what hurts worse: your hangover or your bank account ($74 for the Uber ride?! Oh hell no!). You vow to rein in the spending. And then you wash, rinse, and repeat the very next weekend. —ms