Lets get on with more of the business: THE FIVE STAGES OF DRINKING Stage One : It's 11:00pm, and your friends buy you a round of drinks.
Your unemployed friends. You get up to leave, but then you say to
yourself, "Hey, as long as I get seven hours sleep....I'm cool."
Stage Two : It's midnight, and you've just spent twenty minutes arguing
against artificial turf. Right about then a little devil appears on your
shoulder, and you look at your watch and think to yourself, "Hey, I'm
among my friends, and these are the good times. Besides, as long as I get
five hours' sleep.... I'm cool." Stage Three : It's 1:00am, and you've switched from beer to tequila.
You've just spent twenty minutes arguing in favor of artificial turf. You
look around, and say, "That's about the hottest waitress I've ever
seen". On your way to the bathroom, you buy a drink for the stranger
at the end of the bar, just because you like his face. You and your
friends start having drunken fantasies that, "hey, if we buy our own
bar, we can stay together forever". Right about then, you notice that
the devil is a bit bigger than he was....and he's buying. You start to
leave, but then squint at your watch and say to yourself, "Hey, as
long as I get three hours' sleep---and a complete change of blood....I'm
cool." Stage Four : It's 2:00am, and the devil is bartending. For last call,
you order a bottle of rum and a Coke. You ARE artificial turf. On your way
to the bathroom, you punch out the stranger at the end of the bar, just
because you don't like his face. You look around, and say, "That's
about the hottest busboy I've ever seen". You finally stagger outside
(after being kicked out), when one of your friends says that he knows the
whereabouts of an after-hours bar. You say to yourself, "Hey, since
I'm up this late, why, I might as well stay up all night!!!" Stage Five : It's 5:00am, and you've just spent twenty minutes trying
unsuccessfully to get a refund at the tattoo parlor ("But I don't
KNOW anyone named Ruby!!). You're across the state line at a bar where
there are people who've been released from prison as late as that same
day. This is the kind of bar that even the devil won't touch (Hey, I have
to be back in Hell at 9 for brunch with Hitler; see ya). You're drinking
some thick blue liquid that looks like something from a Romulan wedding
reception. You see the waitress, with fresh stitches in her head, and say,
"I'm gonna marry her". Just then, one of your friends stands up
and screams, "We're drivin' to Florida!!!", then passes out. As
you crawl out of the bar, you say to yourself, "Hey, as long as I get
twenty-nine hours' sleep tomorrow....I'm cool." After crawling
outside, you experience the worst part of Stage Five: the sun shining down
at you, frying your eyes like you're a vampire taking too long getting
back to the coffin. By this time, other people are on their way to work,
and they look down at you and see the sorry state you're in...and they
know. "Who's Ruby?", they ask as they give you their spare
change. This is when you utter the Drinkers' Credo; say it with me now: "I
SWEAR THAT I WILL NEVER DO THIS AGAIN," (for how long??) "AS
LONG AS I LIVE!" Some of the die-hards even have a small postscript: "And
this time, I really mean it!"