1-Waking Up: Confused, you open your eyes and survey whatever nest of blankets and coats you roosted in last night. Akin to a PTSD-riddled veteran, you’re memory is in snippets with huge, potentially-traumatic gaps missing. The inside of your mouth is dry and disgusting; it’s what you’d imagine a desert made of cigarettes would taste like. There’s this sinking feeling inside of you like you need to apologize to everyone, but you can’t remember any specifics. Really, you’re not sure if someone is expecting a phone-call/repayment/full-confession-to-clear-their-name. However, the one certainty at this moment is that you’re definitely still drunk. So, giggling, you pick yourself up and knock off any errant, accumulated filth. It’s at this point you realize you’re totally loopy, like post-oral-surgery-loopy, and you recognize that this is going to be a morning of chuckling like a moron at the lower-brow things in life, like farts or the term “manhole covers”.
2-Exploration: Too rejuvenated to stay asleep, you venture off, seeking companions to laugh about nothing with. Stains, food wrappers, and dignity are strewn amidst the hallway yet you’re so desensitized to the post-party scene that this mess barely registers. Rancid awfulness is piled high at every garbage can, sink, or former toilet, but you just keep moving, hoping to find someone to amuse/annoy with your slap-happiness. Fortunately, you stumble down the stairs with the grace of an alcoholic baby deer and find a gathering of less-than-lucid chuckleheads sprawled across the broken living room couches and yammering in sounds that are more grunts and slurs than actual words.
3-Lounging: If you were expecting a riveting round-table on the more intricate arguments of existential philosophy then this ensuing discourse will be a huge disappointment. No, nothing remotely intelligent is about to take place; this is you and a group of still-drunk friends trying to piece together whatever vomit, sexing, or vomit-inducing sexing transpired last night. Remember, correctness in this circle is attained through volume and personal attacks, not logic. Your jaw and abs will soon ache from laughing so hard, as the room’s general silliness inevitably leads to multiple inside jokes. Everyone will be riffing on each other and there’s no amount of ill-fitting bathrobes, horrible pre-hangover farts, or poorly-timed morning wood that could derail this amusement. Soon the notion of drinking more is broached; you know you could re-up real quick, but the half-filled cups of stale swill scattered throughout the place are certainly less than appetizing.
4-Debating: Hangovers begin to inch their way into the collective conscious and the weird, oddly-giddy morning party starts to wind down. You and everyone else realize their impending sober misery and take action accordingly. Some advocate for recovering through hash browns, bacon grease, and breakfast gravy. Some slink away, likely to employ the jerk-off-then-power-nap hangover strategy. Others still start throwing money together for a liquor store run, apparently convinced that alcohol is their problem as well as their solution. Sadly and with the mutual desire to not feel like human garbage, the morning party fractures with an unspoken vow to return soon.
Nothing gold can stay, Ponyboy.
Justin Gawel is an adult baby from Michigan whose articles appear on BroBible most Thursdays. Look for more of his writing, his BroBible.com archive, and his updates at www.justingawel.com or follow him @justingawel on Twitter.