Is this just a flowchart? No, because a flowchart is a flowchart, and this is an adventure. QED.
You wake up with your head pounding and roll over to look at the clock. 10:35 AM. Damn, maybe that last round of Fireball shots was a bad idea, especially because you have class in…
WAIT! It’s a snow day!
You roll onto your back and stare at the ceiling with a prayer of thanks on your lips. E pluribus Linda. Or whoever it was this year.
If you want to fall back asleep, turn to page 4. If you want to drag your ass out of bed, turn to page 2.
Still marveling at your good fortune, you stumble, bleary-eyed, to the shower. After letting the water run for a few minutes, you are about to step in when a thought strikes you: shower beer?
If it’s five o’clock somewhere and you want a shower beer, turn to page 5. If you aren’t yet an alcoholic, turn to page 7.
You wake with your head throbbing at a slightly lower frequency and roll over to look at the clock. 1:09 PM. It’s probably time to get up. But your bed is definitely comfortable. Really comfortable, in fact. Maybe you should just stay here.
If you want to stay in bed like the slug you are, turn to page 10. If you want to drag your lazy ass out of bed and maybe make something of your life, turn to page 2.
You pad down the stairs to the kitchen and open the fridge. Jesus, it smells terrible… but you’re not choosing that adventure right now. Ah, there’s what you’re looking for: a half-collapsed rack of ‘Stones, just waiting to help you greet the new day. You pluck a ripe one and return to the bathroom, holding your beer like a chalice as you stem under the nozzle. Practicing delayed gratification, you wash your hair first, and then crack open your beer.
If your beer just tastes like beer, turn to page 6. But if it tastes like freedom, turn to page 8.
Well wasn’t that wild. Satisfied with your small rebellion, you step out the shower and dry off. Following a breakfast of egg whites and toast, you settle into your favorite chair and crack open not a beer, but Tolstoy’s “War and Peace.” You’re actually on pace with the assigned readings, but what is a snow day for if not getting ahead? 249 pages later, the sun is setting in the west, and you are aglow with half-submerged self-satisfaction. Tolstoy is just so relevant, isn’t he? Everyone in your seminar hates you but may also secretly envy your intellect. Your adventure is over. WKND hopes it was a good one.
You take a normal, beer-free shower. You eat a nice home-cooked breakfast of bacon and eggs, although you break one of the yolks. Nevermind, though, it’s still delicious. You look forward to surfing the web and watching “Archer.” Maybe you’ll even catch up on reading. But realistically, that’s not gonna happen. You are the stereotypic Yale student. In your future low-level job at Goldman, you will help crash the U.S. economy. But for now, your adventure is over. WKND hopes it was a good one.
Three shower beers later, you’ve left a trail of wet footprints from the second-floor bathroom to the fridge in the kitchen, but you regret nothing. The notion of a fourth beer dances at the now-blurred edge of your consciousness… but then the hot water begins to run out, and you decide it’s time to start the day. Later in the day, you wander over to one of the frats, which is having a snow-themed darty of some sort. Everyone brilliantly interprets this to mean “neon/spandex/neon spandex, but with snowboots,” and soon the slush from outside has mixed with that distinctive beer-dirt mixture on the floor to create a truly novel concoction.
Turn to page 9.
Some people in the living room are trying to dance but sliding around in the sludge; others in the basement are playing beer pong.
If you want to play beer pong, turn to page 11. If you want to attempt to dance, turn to page 12.
You wake with your head clear but your soul tarnished by sloth. You roll over and look at the clock. 4:45 PM. It is too late to choose your own adventure. Your parents are ashamed and will have a hard time looking you in the eye next Thanksgiving.
You play beer pong.
If you want to keep playing beer pong, turn to page 14. If you want to try to find something else to do, turn to page 9.
You attempt to dance, as you have so many times before. But the snow-reflected three o’clock sunlight pouring through the windows makes your gyrations embarrassingly public, and you struggle to truly let go.
If you want to keep dancing anyways, turn to page 12. If you are too self-conscious, turn to page 16.
You play more beer pong. After losing three games in a row, it’s about three o’clock and you’re pretty drunk, especially given the three shower beers you had earlier and the fact that all you’ve eaten is half a plate of leftover nachos. You stagger home through the snow and collapse into your bed. Your adventure is over. WKND hopes it was a good one.
You detach yourself from the pulsing throng in the living room and wander over to the keg in the kitchen. As you pour yourself another beer, you look around the room trying not to make eye contact with anyone, but also trying not to look like you’re trying not to make contact with anyone. Soon you are becoming really introspective and wondering why you can’t just let yourself have a good time. As you begin to think that maybe this is all your parents’ fault, you notice that your beer is overflowing, and a girl wearing neon spandex is staring at you. Feeling naked and exposed, you leave the frat and walk back to your house, still trying not to look like you are trying not to make eye contact with anyone. You lie in your bed and look out your window at the snow sparkling in the sun and wonder how man can be so base in a world of such great beauty. Then you begin to cry. Your adventure is over. WKND hopes it was a good one.