I went to a going-away party the other night and proceeded to get shitfaced with about fifty friends. We were doing shots, drinking cocktails, chugging down beers, and drunk people are known to get hungry. We decided to order a couple of pizzas and that turned into a process. First we had to decide on a place. Then we had to figure out how many people are eating so we would know how many pies to get. Then we had to figure out what toppings you want, and that part took forever because some people are vegetarians and some people are opposed to pineapple and some people can’t eat cheese. It turned into a debate over whether or not to get a meat combo or a veggie combo or a plain cheese pizza, and everyone was drunk so they all have an opinion, and everyone’s opinion was loud. We finally decided on the three pizzas that we would get, and then another argument started over who would call and place the order. Everyone had a lame reason or an excuse over why they couldn’t be the one to call. Eventually I gave in and I called. I didn’t even bother leaving the room full of rowdy drunks, so I had to yell so that the lady could hear me and kept having to ask the lady to repeat herself. After five minutes I finally got the order in, but then we had to collect the money, and that was the biggest hassle of all. Some people had cash, but only big bills that had to be broken. Some people only had cards. Some people had to borrow money from other people. Everyone wanted pizza and that meant some people weren’t going to eat any. Ordering a pizza while drunk is a chore, but eating a pizza while drunk makes it all worthwhile.
Critically Rated at 11/17
Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young