Do you remember that feeling of coming home from grade school, having no homework, and getting permission from your parents to ask if someone can come over? You’d race to the home phone and slide the last few feet there in your socks. Go through the prioritized rolodex in your mind and pray their parents or siblings don’t pick up the phone. You held your breath as your friend said “let me ask” and then hash out the pickup/drop off situation if you got the green light.
There’s been a time in your childhood where you asked someone to come over and hangout for the last time. You didn’t even know it happened.
Life kept going. People moved in with their girlfriends. Some had babies. Everyone has a career. Imagine now, asking someone to come over after their 9-5 to draft Madden teams for a franchise? Can’t do that, we have work in the morning?
So we cling to the weekends. Find a good band playing at a local bar. Drink at someone’s apartment just to go to a bar where you only talk to the people you were at the pregame with. Or smoke and watch the NBA playoffs and put in a same-game baseball parlay. Do bottomless mimosas at brunch. Dollar beers at Parker House on Fridays. Drink, drugs, pray you get laid.
But hanging out used to be so much more simpler. Our uppers were Red Bulls and depressants were too much Taco Bell. We’d play Halo 2 split screen for six hours straight only stopping to walk to Wawa for snacks and sodas. We played knockout on rickety backboards in the dead of winter until our chests hurt. We had wiffle ball leagues in the summer. We dedicated entire nights to picking something out at Blockbuster and bought that liquid sour spray candy in the checkout line. We played MLB The Show ‘06 until the 2028 season without letting the sunlight in for days.
We didn’t worry about Uber rides home. No bar tab regret. No sneaking into graffiti riddled bathroom stalls to throw up. No drugs. And certainly no hangovers. Just video games, backyard sports, and good vibes.
This past weekend, someone from work asked me to grab a few drinks for Happy Hour. I told him I was staying in for a movie marathon with some friends. He was disgusted. Shocked by how enticing my lie sounded, I asked my group chat if anyone wanted to have a movie night. We’re still hurting from Vegas- physically, mentally, financially. I got three yeses. We showed up in basketball shorts, hoodies and slides. We piled onto the couches, dimmed the lights, brought a 2 liter of Mountain Dew and microwaved bagged popcorn. It was….divine. Exquisite.
After the movie we gossiped like school kids. We made a graveyard of plastic cups, bags of chips, and spilled popcorn. We teased people for old girlfriends and talked of old rivalries. I felt thirteen again. I debated suggesting a sober sleep over but I was afraid they’d have me institutionalized. One thing at a time.
There’s a lot of obstacles in our way. The convenience of online gaming has made split screen video games obsolete. We think with the wrong head too often. “Going out” tricks you into thinking hey, at least I did something this weekend. Fight back. Normalize calling your buddies again just to chill. Take care of y’all’s chicken, take care of y’all’s mentals. Bring back sober hangouts.
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