Every Brunch Ever
By Hallie Cantor
Saturday, 11 pm: Make a drunkenly ambitious plan to go to brunch at 10:30 on Sunday morning. 11:01: Get much, much drunker. Sunday, 10:15 am: Wake up incredibly hungover to a text from your early riser friend asking if brunch is still on. Wait to make sure someone else texts yes before you commit so that you're not stuck at an awkwardly intimate two-person brunch. 10:16-11:45: Engage in the delicate dance of the group text to choose a restaurant that's rated highly enough on Yelp for your food snob friend, cheap enough for your cheapskate friend, vegetarian-friendly enough for your vegetarian friend, and convenient enough for everyone. Resist eating breakfast during this time so that you don't ruin your appetite, even though you're still really hungover and starving. Make plans to meet at noon. 12:05: Arrive. Learn that there's a 30 minute wait. Gather with all your friends except the one who's always late in a cranky cluster on the sweaty/freezing sidewalk outside the restaurant. Exhaust all possible conversation topics so you have nothing left to talk about during the meal. 12:34: Your friend who's always late texts that he's going to be a little late because the trains were messed up. 12:35: The hostess calls your name. Learn that incomplete parties cannot be seated. 12:45: Your late friend arrives and you finally sit down. Pause after the waiter asks what you're having to drink to see if other people are going to order DRINK-drinks. 12:46: Thank god they did. Get a bloody mary because it sounds filling even though every time you've ever had one it tasted like spicy ketchup water. 12:55: Eggs...or almond-encrusted baked custard french toast stuffed with raspberry coulis and fresh mango and homemade whipped cream? Or eggs? Try to convince someone to get both with you and split them. No one agrees. 1:00: Get eggs to be healthy. Eat them miserably while thinking about the almond-encrusted baked custard french toast stuffed with raspberry coulis and fresh mango and homemade whipped cream that could have been. 1:25: As the meal winds down, share your plans for the rest of the day, each trying to make it sound like you're going to do something more productive than going home to nap. 1:26-1:56: When the bill arrives, argue for twenty minutes about who didn't put in enough money. Your cheapskate friend insists it wasn't him because he "didn't have a coffee." Put in more money. 2:00: Shuffle out of the restaurant feeling poor, stuffed, drunk and tired. Go home and sleep.