Everyone knows Dollar Night at The Hawk sucks, but at least the liquor makes it seem fun. So what would happen if you take the liquor out? No pregame, no nothing. What actually goes on when you’re too intoxicated to notice? I went to find out so you don’t have to.
Showing up this early sucked. At first I had to double check to make sure it was the right day. At any given time, there are more people in the checkout line at Dillon’s than there were in The Hawk.
After about an hour of awkwardly waiting for more people to arrive, the place started to fill. At the bar, two white girls rolled up and without waiting immediately ordered tequila shots. And of course, they had to take picture of said shots.
The song selection was incredibly diverse. But not in a good way. Plus, there were way too many people who were way too eager to scream the line “I suck a pussy fuck a pussy leave it there” when Mr. Carter came on.
Spotted: two white dudes in cargo shorts. One tried to give the other a high five. The other guy head-butted his hand and screamed “alpha!” Yeah… Don’t fuck with that guy.
Being Hispanic, I couldn’t help but notice all of the sudden the only people of color there started congregating near the left side of the door by the ATM. Was this some sort of ‘minority report’ I was unaware of? Naturally I headed over for some quality awkward standing and trying to act cool.
Out of nowhere I saw some meathead in straight fit jeans nearly get into a fight with someone over some beef from an intramural basketball game. Chill dude, it’s only 11:05. You can’t be doing that shit before midnight. Let everyone get a little more wasted before you cause that type of fuckery.
I unexpectedly ran into a girl in my Coms class. From the sounds of it, she probably won’t remember running into me. Although, the fact that she knew me had me feeling good… *sun glasses emoji*
Eventually I decided to make my way over to the other side of the bar. The booth with all the dudes sitting and chilling on their phones with one white girl dancing on the table was obviously the place to be. I think this the perfect embodiment of the millennial generation. One girl obviously trying to reel in a victim and five guys more interested in posting bro pics on their stories.
Spotted: Three white guys with striped polos getting into an intense argument over hockey. No surprise, they were drinking Coors Light.
At this point I could no longer stand to be sober. The one friend I could convince to come was shitfaced and sprinted off to god knows where. Fuck it, we made it this long, but we need something to get through the night. Shots.
Three shots and a Bud Light later, I needed a bathroom. I wasn’t feeling it quite yet, but I did manage to run into some guy vaping and wearing a beanie standing by the sink in the men’s room handing out his Snapchat card––which is apparently a thing.
Spotted: Tall skinny white kid with sagging pants wearing an over-sized hoodie and a backwards Lakers snapback. The kind of guy that you really want to hangout with outside of this hellish, sticky bar, or at the very least, follow him on Twitter.
What I saw next has to be the best thing I’ve ever seen: three dudes who must have been theatre kids in high school singing their own rendition to Mike Posner’s “Cooler Than Me”, and they were SO much cooler than me.
Right as I was starting to really feel all the drinks, I immediately found myself in need of more as some white girl in acid wash jean shorts began talking to me, and when I say “talking” I mean yelling at the top of her lungs. Something about Khloe Kardashian? I’m not really sure, but apparently it was significant.
All in all, Dollar Night sober isn’t the worst thing in the world. You notice a lot more you’d otherwise miss. It’s a lot more entertaining, but a lot more annoying. The most important lesson learned is that there’s a reason no one is there at 9:30. They’re all pre-gaming and getting their bodies ready for the shit show to come.
Listen to Talk of Shame, a podcast about being young & dumb. Hosted by 2 drunk girls from The Black Sheep corporate, Mackenzie Harding & Andrea Jablonski. One can’t find her tampon, the other one’s laundry is probably on fire.