Your New Best Friend
Meeting place: The Toad
The Girl With Her Phone
She is in the process of snapchatting her entire bathroom experience, while simultaneously posting a mirror selfie on Instagram. Whatever you do, don’t make direct eye contact with her—she’ll force you into trying on the flower crown filter with her and demand that you follow her on every social media channel so she can tag you.
The Impossibly Beautiful Drunk
Meeting place: 441 Main
The Hungry Drunk
Meeting place: Cowboys
The Girl Who’s Celebrating Her 18th Birthday
Meeting place: District Stop
The Weathered Bar Star
Meeting place: Citizen
She’s gone out every weekend since she turned 18, and now she’s 24*. Alcohol no longer affects her (her veins pump pure vodka), so she’s probably snorting a line of coke off the back of the toilet instead. Her eyes are hollow and she’s incapable of interesting conversation beyond screaming the latest Chainsmoker lyrics. She most likely arrived at the club with a lesser-known Blue Bombers player.
*24 in Bar Star Years is equivalent to 28 in real-time years.
The Sobbing Mess
Meeting place: Reign
You can’t be sure, but you think she might be crying about the fact that the tiny pickles they serve on the side of a caesar will never get to grow up and become full-sized pickles. You manage to dry her tears, but then she starts crying with uncontrollable happiness over the delicious range of foods that can be made from potatoes.
The Sobbing Mess is often accompanied by...
The Mom Of The Group
Meeting place: Cowboys
Every friend group has a mom—she stations herself in the bathroom for the entire evening with a Lug bag full of treats. Water bottles, electrolyte tablets, baby wipes, and perfectly portioned ziplock bags full of nuts and crackers. Bonus: if you behave yourself that night, she’ll let you eat McDonalds in the backseat of her Camry. But be warned—if she sees you texting your ex, she’ll make you sit in the corner until you realize what you’ve done. Ugh, so unfair.
The Basic One
Meeting place: Bar I
She looks haggard and her winged eyeliner is seriously smeared. She has a dark brown spill over her left boob and a number written in sharpie on her arm next to the name ‘Chad’. You move closer to her, and she moves with you, until you realize you’re looking in a mirror. She is you. You are her. You’re drunk AF. Go home.