The early bird special is ridiculed only by the clueless; only by those stuck in stodgy tradition. Forget the old saying, nothing good happens after 2 a.m. It’s more like 9 p.m. Regular drinkers like to call New Year’s Eve “amateur hour” but anybody belting back cocktails after 9 is only doing what kids do. And by kids I mean 15 year olds. You want to be doing what a 15 year old is doing? Get enlightened. Go early. There’s a reason they call it Happy Hour.
The thing is, afternoon dining with a side of drinking can give you the wild and crazy reputation you want. You can look really decadent and devil-may-care and no one has to know you’re planning to be in bed by 9. Wow, others would say, they’re drinking at 4 o’clock in the afternoon. How do they do it?
And there’s another benefit to afternoon social skills building… you don’t have to plan an Irish exit. When you’re out with dirty stay-outs the last half an hour is spent eyeballing the side door. Is there a way out near the bathroom? Or else you’ll try the fake phone call. You act like you can’t hear so you go outside and then bolt away. But that one’s barely working anymore.
When you’re early-birding you don’t have to pull a disappearing act. You take pride in calling it quits. You’ve got yoga, golf, or some BS kid’s thing you gotta do the next day.
Other early-birders respect that. You’ve had your drinks; you’ve had your fun. Now there’s a decent chance at a good night’s sleep. The hangover won’t be as bad. Not nearly as bad for the fools who went home after dark.
You, you, early bird are a social genius. You are cutting edge and hip - - because you are ahead of the curve.
Bottoms up! Seize the day.
Boyleing Points: I got busted on a long goodbye recently. You say goodbye and then a new thought pops up and you start talking and then a few minutes later you say goodbye again. And then you’re still, kinda leaving, kinda talking, 15 minutes later. You haven’t left even though you declared your intention to leave two or three times. I hate when people do that. I’ve already given my bro hug or looked sad that they were leaving. How long am I supposed to show that feeling? Leave already. Evan from 96th Street called me on it recently after I stopped for a chat with friends on that block and then dragged out the exit. I stayed another few minutes to defend myself. But he had me. I was guilty of the long goodbye. I hated myself on the way home.
**My son Sean paid me a great compliment and insulted me at the same time. He said my gig at The Wave made me “Rockaway famous.” That was the insult. But then added, “You’re the Pat Brady of your generation.”
For the few of you who don’t know Pat aka Other aka Cheese Lover, he’s a legendary bartender at Connolly’s and, well, he’s just legendary. I am not worthy of such comparison. But then again, nobody in my generation can be Pat Brady.