underage drinking in your hometown during the holidays for dummies.

19 Nov

Aaahh the holiday season is upon us!

You never really remember how quickly it hits. One minute you’re milking a pair of flip flops and totally excited to maybe keep a thing of mums alive for more than a week. Then, in the blink of an eye, you’re trick-or-treating in a blizzard and are literally incapable of making a purchase in a store without waiting 35 minutes.

The arrival of Christmastime is marked most notably by the return of the sweatpant-clad college set. We in the restaurant business devote a lot of time to complaining about little brats and high school kids, and then suddenly a bunch of punk 20-year-olds roll into town to put it all in perspective.

  1. We know you’re not from New Jersey, so please put your fake ID away and stick with the Root Beer. We also know you’re not from Michigan, California, South Dakota and New Mexico. Know how we’ve figured that out? Because NOBODY COMES TO LONG ISLAND FOR THANKSGIVING UNLESS THEIR MOM MAKES THEM.
  2. When we mention Amateur Night, we are specifically referring to you. If you are from New Mexico, Michigan, California or South Dakota, please don’t eat at my restaurant on Thanksgiving Eve. Unless you’re one of those dorky groups of friends who’s yet to “break out of their shell” and then I love you and your sober asses. You’re adorbs and I’m super glad you came down to play Trivia Night.
  3. College isn’t real. It feels totally real. I know. I was there. I still bleed Orange. I lived in a house where I paid a staggering $600 a semester, and I was stoned morning, noon and night on awesome weed that my friends’ parents had essentially purchased for them. (I’m really well behaved and spent all of my parents’ money at CVS.) But when you’re at school, you’re really in some sort of idyllic microcosm of life where a basketball game is considered a holiday. So please remember that while you’re amongst us regular people, you are required to follow our regular people rules. Like tipping your server, and ordering more than a diet coke and side of fried pickles as your meal.
  4. It is not mandatory to play air guitar to every classic rock song. We are all very proud of you for knowing an Eric Clapton song. But you don’t have to prove it. Because really? You look really really really silly when you and all of your friends have your eyes closed and are rocking out on your invisible instruments in unison when Layla plays at my bar.
  5. Put your phone down for like 30 seconds and have a conversation with your parents. For 9 months out of the year, all I listen to is your mom telling me how proud she is that you’re double majoring in Communications and Poli Sci. Your dad tells me that you’ve “figured out how to balance getting good grades with studying abroad in Amsterdam.” Please don’t make them look like fools, believe me, they already do enough douchey stuff the rest of the time for that to happen.
  6. Sweatpants are pajamas. Also, Uggs are slippers. And when did this whole don’t-bend-your-hat-brim thing start, because I fuckin’ hate it. Dress like a grownup, because you never know if the owner of the restaurant you’re eating in is looking to hire an intern for her weed bakery business, but only wants someone who will dress business casual. It is a very very serious operation. If you don’t want to dress like a grownup when you’re popping by for a burger, that’s fine. But at the very least GET DRESSED!
  7. My restaurant is owned by old people. And that old people is me. Right? Like, I’m such an old fart! When did this HAPPEN??? Like, I’m bitching about wearing UGGS when they are my ABSOLUTE FAVORITE FOOT COVERING IN THE ENTIRE WORLD EXCEPT FOR THESE BAMBOO SOCKS I HAVE!!!! I don’t get it, I used to be so fucking cool (You know, after I came out of my shell).  Really I’m just jealous. Not about the air guitar thing though. That’s just lame.

Anyway, so the college kids have landed. The holidays are here. And in case I had instantly forgotten about The Arrival, as a final reminder, tonight I stepped in a lone pile of vomit on the sidewalk outside the restaurant.

Thanks, college friends. Merry Christmas.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: