The Perils of Boozy Brunching in Fort Lauderdale
Bottomless brunch at Tap 42: The ultimate temptress.
Brunch is a beautiful, wonderful thing; a heroine of meal-time concepts, a weekend hangover savior. It’s the light that gives you hope in those morning-after moments when you wake up smelling like Jameson and regret. Tap 42? AmSo? Coconuts? Boozy brunch in Fort Lauderdale is always a good idea.
Or is it? From embarrassing drunken run-ins with family friends to afternoon showers ending in a busted chin and five stitches at urgent care, allow me to count down the perils of boozy brunching in our fair city of Fort Lauderdale.
8. Opting to bike to/from brunch will not save you from a DUI.
You may feel like a put-together adult when you opt to ride your bike or blade to bottomless at Louie Bossi's with the #squad. As you glide along Las Olas in your trendy new Lulu top and Ray-Ban wayfarers, catching rays on your way over, all you can think is how this Saturday is about to be your bitch. Your inebriated journey to the next bar, on the other hand, might be a different story. Just remember: Alcohol is a blood thinner, and biking while under the influence is still a crime.
7. "Bottomless" is a lie.
There is a bottom, and you will reach it. First at 3 p.m., when the mimosas let up, and then again at 3 a.m., when you enter the bedroom of the jerk who gave you chlamydia last year.
6. The battle royal that ensues around 2:45 p.m.
Any boozy bruncher is familiar with the feeling: the intense pangs of anxiety and fear that kick in when everyone at the restaurant starts realizing unlimited alcohol is coming to an end. Suddenly, it’s ten minutes until cutoff and your server is nowhere to be found. All glasses and bottles on the table are empty and you're barely even tipsy, you convince yourself, growing more and more panicked over not getting your $15 worth. When this happens, just remember to take a deep breath and wait your turn. There's plenty more cheap booze where that came from — this is Fort Liquordale.
5. Hidden costs.
One minute you’re deciding between a bloody or a mimosa, eggs Benedict or lemon ricotta pancakes, and next thing you know, $15 turns into 15 hours of sweet, hazy, shit-faced adventure time. You end up losing equal amounts of money and dignity from shotgunning $50 worth of PBR in front of Beach Place with some girl named Bunny and her boyfriend, whom you met an hour before, when they told you and your boyfriend you were a "good-looking couple."
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