When you find yourself strollin' along State Street anywhere from 12:00 a.m. until about 2:30 a.m. on a Friday or Saturday night, it's pretty much a given that you're going to witness one or more of the following.
One, a cocky meathead who is finally attaining his single goal for the night: picking a fight with a guy either laughably stronger than him or utterly defenseless. Two, a belligerent girl who is attempting to re-enact the latest fight from ""Bad Girls Club"" or ""Jersey Shore."" Three, a male or female so sloshed that walking a straight line on solid concrete is like attempting to walk a tight rope in the Ringling Brother's Circus.
I usually refer to these characters as ""hot messes,"" and they supply the rest of State Street with sensational entertainment. Every ""bitch please"" and ""you wanna go"" is like music to my ears, and each teetering swagger instinctively brings a smirk to my lips.
But what really gets me goin' is when these characters decide waiting until 5:00 p.m. is just not going to fly—their quest to inebriation must start now. By ""now"" I mean once they awaken at 11:00 a.m. from their dreams filled with beer pong championships and keg stands.
There is just nothing like casually walking down State Street to get lunch at Potbelly with your dad to discuss how attending the prestigious UW-Madison has been going and witnessing a WWE SmackDown across the way at State Street Brats. Or walking behind a man in a Hawaiian shirt tottering down the street, making figure eights and alternating between a quick shuffle on his toes and, after realizing he is spinning out of control and headed straight for a lamp post, stopping short and slowly circling his hips and torso to catch his balance.
Don't get me wrong, I love day drinking just as much as the next person. In fact, I sometimes prefer getting three sheets to the wind at noon so I can make a fat dinner, pass out by 8 p.m. and either get the best 15 hours of sleep ever, or wake up at 11:00 p.m. and start the process all over again. The only difference is I try to keep my composure on the streets, or if that feat seems impossible, I lock myself in my apartment and stick to shouting obscenities from the safety of my own home.
