Is it worth it for the hangover?
Is the tomfoolery of a night out with your mates worth the unfortunate consequences the next day? Let’s weigh up the positives and negatives, shall we?
Do you ever wake up on a Sunday morning with the words of the great Robbie Williams running through your head: ‘I’m a burning effigy of everything I used to be?’ Yep. Me too.
I’m sure everybody’s had those kinds of Saturday nights, right? The classic shenanigans. You turn up to the pub for the 5.30 kick-off, few pints, bit of chat, pretty chill. And then the game finishes and there’s calls by some to go somewhere else for one more - okay, if you insist, you say. Cut to a few hours later and you’re embodying Steve Stiffler from American Pie 3 on the dancefloor of some pretty average club – if you know the scene, you know the scene – attempting, and failing, to talk to a girl you think is very much ‘into you’ – she’s not. I’m pretty sure that sequence of events is a universal experience (or at least I hope).
The next morning, however, is when the mind games start to begin. Your brain questions you in the funniest kinds of way – it treats you almost like a detainee at Guantanamo Bay. The crippling hangxiety; the nausea; the pounding headache; the rush to go and check you’ve still got the golden trio – phone, keys, and wallet – and you haven’t even begun to think about what the state of your bank balance might look like. Oh yes, it’s the beginning of the ‘recovery day.’
So, is the ‘good time’ of the night before worth the horror of the next day? Let's see.
Positives:
What else are you going to do? It’s a Saturday afternoon, and you’ve just had a message from your mate. They say they’re going to the pub for the football with a few friends tonight, are you in? Well, you could say no. Saying you’d prefer to watch the latest episode of the Rest is History on YouTube, or you could say yes and experience a bit of life, have a good laugh, and chat some nonsense. In the words of Danny Dyer in the groundbreaking 2004 film, The Football Factory: ‘I know what I’d rather do.’
The post night food. The verdict is in. It’s now 2am and things are starting to blur a little. The symptoms of the ‘recovery day’ are already setting in. One friend approaches you on the dancefloor of the average club that you’re now regretting attending – who would’ve thought it. You’ve just asked the girl you think is ‘into you’ about the Oxford housing crisis and if she knows what the average house price in Oxford is (true story, shamefully). ‘Shall we go get a maccies?’ your friend now says to you, shouting into your ear. They’re the golden words, aren’t they? Then there you are, standing in front of a giant touch screen, like a loser, ordering (if you can work the damn things) the only thing that might just stop the ‘recovery day’ from being worse than it probably will be. That food, you could say, is some of the finest you’ve ever tasted - stuff the Ritz! Some may argue it’s worth the whole evening just for that, and it’s not a bad shout to be honest.
Negatives:
The financial aspect. A pint isn’t cheap anymore. With a standard pint of beer now standing at £5.60 in Oxford – and I’m telling you, I think it’s more than that, I paid £7.10 last week! A few too many of those bad boys and you’re soon facing a similar problem to Greece in 2009. It’s costly to the old treasury, and you can’t keep counting on getting bailed out by your mates.
The hangxiety. I’m not sure who coined the term, but others may know it as ‘the fear.’ This alcohol induced paranoia is enough to make you regret most decisions in life – even the good ones. You start to worry about every conversation from the night before. Did you say anything rude to anyone? Have you still got friends? Did you do anything remotely too silly? Nine times out of ten it’s worry for nothing. But the feeling is still not a pleasant one.
The evaporation of dignity. After a bit of a big night, you then spend the next three or four days hearing the words ‘Saturday was a big one, wasn’t it?’ Or ‘God, you look like a shadow of your former self.’ This type of behaviour leads you to question what it was all for. Is the night out worth the potential loss in dignity? It’s an age-old question, I suppose.
Now, classic me, I probably have blown things out of proportion a tad, but whatever. These are all massive talking points that I’m sure many often think about across the country (or at least I hope so). The negatives do seem to outweigh the positives here, as can be seen. But as the legendary actor, and known lover of a tipple, Oliver Reed once said: ‘You meet a better class of people in pubs,’ and he’s got a point. So, after all that, I guess I’ll be seeing you out sometime, yeah?