Flavor of the Week: Pregaming


In order to drink as much as we possibly can and to extend the night as wide and as deep as it will possible run (much like a river bed), our generation has decided to split partying in halves and refer to each as a different name. Alas, you have ‘pregame’ and ‘party,’ though they both really mean ‘DRINK.’

Our parents didn’t have pregames, but we do. And to think how surprised we all acted in family life our freshman year of high school when the teacher wearing track pants insisted data absolutely, positively proved that 70% of all high schoolers binge drink. I didn’t know how to take a shot until my first year of college. So to think, a young 14-year-old me, with the alcohol tolerance of a baby given wine at his bris, fell into that 70%? My friends and I called it hogwash. What an effing blasphemy that someone wearing track pants is telling me that the majority of my friends are binge drinkers! And usually we just mix vodka with OJ in a red cup and call it a day! And I probably act more drunk from the sugar in the OJ than I do from the alcohol! I don’t even know what a ’30 rack’ means!

However, of course, we were very wrong.

Pregaming: the act of getting together with a small group of friends to start drinking with the intention of eventually going somewhere else. It’s like a base coat, but for your liver.

Binge drinking: drinking a sometimes absurd amount of alcohol in order to get drunk in a short amount of time; usually done to feel the effects of alcohol quickly.

There isn’t much of a difference aside from the fact that you binge drink (verb) at a pregame (noun). But as we all know, they go together like ramalamalamakadingadadingadong.

There is an art to the pregame, that which is perfected after study and practice. You learn what time to arrive given the estimated time of departure for the party itself, or what time to arrive based upon the requested time of arrival to the pregame. Of course, the goal is to never arrive on time, anywhere. You learn to walk in with your own cup/unidentifiable mixed liquid. Or, obv, you could always just enter with your iPhone in one hand and a can of Diet Coke in the other, presumably ‘shared’ with a really random and ironic name, and you look cool enough to call it a day. You have to look as good for the pregame as you plan on looking for the party. And you have to say hi to everyone — everyone — or SGA (shit gets awk).

Often, the pregame is better than the party. It, like Cady Heron, has become the center of all social life. I hear a song and I think: this would be suchhhh a good pregame song. But, like, where are the party songs? And if I have no plans, I ask my friends: what are we thinking for PG? Asking where the party is makes me sound Bob Saget-ancient.

Saying “Should we pregame it?” is like asking “Has Miley instagrammed a million pictures of her arts and crafts projects in the last half hour?” The answer is always an obvious DUH.

I could and would talk about this for hours, but I have to go get ready for a pregame. Literally.