More Fun Than Traffic School: Nine Things to Do Drunk Besides Drive
by Allison Davis
I lived in Los Angeles for four years and almost everyone I knew during that time has since acquired a DUI. This is because LA’s top two priorities are being seen at as many Hollywood parties as possible, and being seen getting out of a whip that costs more than the house you grew up in when you get there. Safety third, I guess.
Somehow I escaped unscathed, but from what I hear, DUIs are a gigantic pain in the ass and cost way more than you could ever imagine. Plus, you can kill someone/yourself. Fortunately, I’ve put together a list of things that are WAY MORE FUN to do drunk than drive. Suck it, LA.
Read a novel: Counter-intuitive, I know. But trust me on this one. Works best when you are already in the middle of a book you’ve been reading sober, and then read about 20 pages or so wasted. So when you pick it up again later, you’re all, “WHAT? He killed WHO? After finding out she was sleeping with HIM?” And every book becomes your own private Inception. (Full disclosure: I never saw that movie).
Talk to your Parents: Again, not something you would think to do normally. But assuming you’re legally an adult and living in your own house and making your own money, nothing bad can really happen here. In fact, it’s a perfect opportunity to have a couple Dr. Phil moments, teetering precariously between lowered inhibitions and belligerence, i.e. “I will never forgive you for not coming to my 8th grade graduation!” and “Pizza Bites are So GOOD! Do you remember when you used to make me pizza bites after school? Can you come over now and make some pizza bites for me pleeeaassseee?” I promise, your mom will love your vulnerability. There’s some real opportunity for healing here.
Go Shopping: We had just shut down happy hour and decided that the party wasn’t over until we spent ALL of our paper. (Does anybody else get rap video syndrome when day drinking?) So Kate and I went to the mall (!) and started shopping indiscriminately. Towards the we-really-should-eat-something-seriously-I-can’t-see end, we were in a shoe store and Kate was doing the thing where she had the blue shoe on one foot and the green shoe on the other foot in front of the mirror, deciding which one to get. And THEN the sales clerk, who wasn’t even drunk, said, “why don’t you just get them both?” Ah-fucking ha, you guys! In both of our margarita-addled minds we translated this to one of EACH shoe, not both pairs, and don’t ask me how but we convinced both him and his manager to let her buy one blue shoe and one green shoe, which she still rocks and actually kinda pulls off to this day.
Defriend people on Facebook: Guess what? We’re not friends now and we weren’t friends when you sat behind me in Geometry class 14 years ago either! Later! I only friended you so that you could maybe get me a job at your company, but I’ve since figured out that you have zero clout and are probably on thin ice yourself! Peace! You think I don’t know that you hooked up with my ex-boyfriend at MY birthday party you slut, but I do! See ya!
Write Angry Letters to Big Corporations: Dear Scrabble, First off, I love your game. I really do. There are other board game biters but they can’t compete. I fancy myself a bit of a wordsmith myself and this helps me keep my edge. But what’s with having your own dictionary full of almost words, so that people who own and study said dictionary get away with bullshit like Qi and regular people like me have all these Ns and shit? That doesn’t seem fair. Why are you trying to make me buy your book just so I can be good at Scrabble? Also, what’s up with all the Ns? Love, Me
Ride a Bicycle: I used to ride tipsy all the time because it’s like being in my own private video game starring me, but I had to stop after I fell down twice in the six, yes two in six blocks from the bar to my house. The first time nothing even got in my way. I just sort of toddled over because I couldn’t balance. It was really trippy because I don’t so much remember falling down as I do the asphalt coming up to meet my face. There were a group of dudes drinking across the street who saw me, and I guess I went down hard because they were all like, “Hooooo, SHIT! DAYUUUUM! You aight girl?” and I guess I said something or something and and rolled away, only you can’t outrun gravity and I was down AGAIN. This time I saw a cop car across the street (I’m sure he was busy with a homicide or something) and got so scared that I was going to get a ticket (?) that I just limped my bike the rest of the way to my house. The next morning when I woke up the entire left side of my body hurt, and I had no idea why for 20 minutes or so and felt real, real dumb when I finally remembered. So this is actually a cautionary tale, don’t do this one. (Although it is kinda fun).
Anything Involving Bongos: No commentary here. Just, anything involving bongos. Instant party, even if you’re alone. Maybe even moreso if you’re alone, actually.
Play Sports: Especially great if you were a high-school athlete that could’ve actually been something if you didn’t discover weed and boys junior year. It will be the most fun you’ve ever had breaking your ankle, guaranteed.
Have Sex: Is there anything better than loud giggly sloppy wrong-hole sex when you have to work the next day? Everything feels awesome and fine and of course we can smoke in here, fuck my roommate, she’s a total bitch anyway and is there any more whiskey left? This is the first time I’ve ever done this, I swear.
Allison Davis is a writer and TV producer living in San Francisco. If you were to run into her at a cocktail party she would probably casually name-drop HBO, CBS, PBS, FOX, Converse, Chipotle, Piano Fight and Current TV before mumbling something about needing a martini and leaving abruptly. She currently produces super-important social justice documentaries so you don’t have to and writes endearingly belligerent work for theater and TV to offset the heavy stuff.