There was a time when I paid seven dollars for a two hour open bar. Yes, seven dollars, every weekend. And you know what? I complained about it. We all did. We were outraged that such a shithole bar would dare require a cover – even if we were getting free booze. It was freshman year of college, 2007, The Rat – a dingy basement bar at the heart of downtown Binghamton, NY. But seven dollars?! For a two-hour open bar?! All you can double fist from 9-11 p.m.?! If my present day self could have only heard me back then, I would have backhanded my cheap, Ugg-wearing 18-year-old self right in the teeth.
Cut to 2013. Just last week, I spent $60 at Happy Hour.
From Class to the Concrete Jungle: An Open Letter to College Graduates
Posted in Published Work