What the Time You Go Home From the Party Says About You

We've devoted countless articles to the anthropological nuances of club culture. But believe it or not, sometimes when and how you choose to go home can say as much about you as what you do before you call it a night. Below, we bring you a breakdown of the most popular departure times. Whether you call up an Uber at a humble 11:00 PM (lame!) or catch the subway back to your apartment at 10 in the morning, you're likely to learn a lot about yourself.

Let's be honest—you didn't even want to go out tonight. You were halfway through an episode of Sherlock, but caved in to requests from your friends to party because you didn't want to seem anti-social. But now you're at the club. The alcohol hasn't hit your bloodstream fast enough to convince you to stick around and keep dancing, and it's 11PM, so it's time to go back home to your girlfriend, roommate, or computer. You're also just mad because you caved and actually went out. Laziness is a virtue, man!

If you've already been out for a reasonable amount of time, you're now getting to the point where you're thinking about how bad the hangover at work tomorrow will be. If you don't have a job, maybe you're just too drunk to stick around—or perhaps the party just sucks. Either way, you decide to go home before sunrise, and get a reasonable night's sleep. Instead, though, you're lying in bed wide awake, lost in a wormhole of existential ruminations about your life, and why you suddenly have the spins. Pro tip: place one foot on the floor. The terror going on in your brain will subside.

"I just vomited, therefore I am." Broné Turnupcartes.

The party was good, the party was loud, the party was, well, a party. Somehow, you've stumbled your way to your front door. Although you planned to be totally silent when entering your place, you now find yourself jumping on your roommate like a steroid-gobbling football player. Sadly, your rampage doesn't end in your bed, but inside the glow of your refrigerator. You decide to stuff your face with your roommate's initialed leftovers, until 8AM, when it's far too bright to sleep. If you have shutters, they are broken. You'll never get out of this maze!

This is kind of like going home at dawn, but you're even less rested and a bit more fucked up. You maybe even managed to share in a morning coffee or shower sex with the person you met earlier in the night, before having to run to work in the same exact club-clothes. At the office, you get asked silly questions like "What did you do last night?" The answer is, depending on your ideals, something like "a gentleman never tells," or a lurid retelling of last night's conquests. Don't get fired.

Your phone battery is empty, and the texts you'll eventually find contain only a few cryptic words full of typos from your friends discussing whose turn it is to call the police and report you as missing. You've left the club and are now either curled up in a ball in the corner of a stranger's apartment, or have just gone directly into your day's commitments like nothing weird happened last night. If you qualify into the latter case, you smell like a mix between a functioning alcoholic and a character from The Walking Dead. Eventually, you'll high-tail it directly to your bed, where you'll probably wake up at4:00 AM completely sober and a bit confused. Maybe it's time to hit the club and do this all over again?

The author would offer you coffee on Twitter

This article also appeared on Noisey Alps.