It’s been a while since I’ve had a meaningful hang with my friends given our busy schedules, so proposing brunch this weekend seemed like the perfect plan. What else is there to do on a Sunday other than wake up at noon, roll out of bed at a glacial pace, and meet great friends for hangover food? I suggested this in our group chat, but what happened next shook me to my core. One of my friends said we should meet up at 10 a.m., and before I could recover from my clinical shock, everyone else in the chat heartily agreed.
Brunch before noon? What is this, breakfast?!
I tried to backpedal and propose a reasonable time like 1 p.m. or perhaps 3, but all it took was my friend Sam saying, “Personally, 10 is better for me,” for the plan to be solidified. Goddamn it, Sam! Consider yourself uninvited from my wedding!
It felt like I was banging on the glass of a conference room, screaming at the top of my lungs for someone, anyone, to have some humanity while my friends continued their conversation inside, unperturbed.
I wracked my brain to find out where I’d gone wrong. Were my friends still who I thought they were? Had we ever really known each other? How could anyone who knew me well propose such a barbaric, inhumane time for brunch? I pulled out my pocket-sized Bill of Rights and checked the 8th amendment to see if this fell under the umbrella of cruel and unusual punishment, but turns out that’s more for matters of the state.
To that I say, what about matters of the heart?
With the brunch plan set for the equivalent of 4 a.m., there was nothing left to do but prepare myself emotionally and physically for the journey ahead. I tried to decide if I should just stay up all night. How else was I supposed to wake up in time for a 10 a.m. brunch? Cocaine? Other synthetic stimulants? Perhaps I would install a bucket of water over my bed attached to an alarm clock – it was the only way I could foresee waking up in time to catch such an unreasonably early meal.
I set 12 separate alarms, but even that was not enough. I awoke at noon to hundreds of texts and missed calls from my friends – I had slept through brunch, and we likely would not be able to meet in person again for weeks, if not years. As I settled back into my slumber, I realized it was always going to end this way. I didn’t want to be friends with the type of psychopath who sets brunch at the break of dawn, anyway.
