If a child wakes up grumpy, we say that they woke up on the wrong side of the bed. As adults, we spend decades fruitlessly searching for the right side of the bed. During these aimless wanderings through a metaphorical desert of despair, we have created an oasis that shields us from the unrelenting heat that builds our thirst to nigh unquenchable levels. Up there with societal inventions like democracy and the gold standard is the happy hour.

Drunkenness is thought to have first been discovered by the accidental consumption of fermented fruit. The forbidden fruit. Some say the entire growth of human civilization is one big bacchanal. If not rooted in impaired judgement, how else could we explain world events like the Salem Witch Trials, Spanish Inquisition, The Gummy Bears Disney Cartoon or Great Emu War.

The grapes of wrath are those not used for wine.

Due to the nature of blacking out and forgetting no one truly knows the origin of happy hour. The dominant theory is a group of stressed-out chemists came up with the idea after an exceptionally stressful week. Because as we know, chemistry more than any other discipline understands alcohol is a solution.

Some say alcohol is a depressant but if you’re already depressed, math tells us two negatives, when multiplied, equal a positive. This concept becomes the foundation of happy hours.

For 23 sad hours every day, we are to blame for our shortcomings and missteps but for that one happy hour, we can blame alcohol for our bad decisions.

 

-You know that derisive comment you made towards your boss? That isn’t from years of slow burning rage fueled by his micromanagement culminating in your final explosion. No! That’s from too many long island iced teas!

-The coworker you finally opened up to revealing your feelings only to get rejected, that wasn’t your heart talking, it was the vodka!

-That magic card trick you’ve been working on to impress everyone but you couldn’t pick their card if your life depended on it, that’s actually still on you, I don’t think we can blame that on the rum.

 

The invention of happy hour is the modern day letting the genie out of the bottle. Influenced by alcohol we all get to pursue our wish while we drown out the voice of Jiminy Cricket in our head. And once you get into your 30s, it’ll take 1,001 Arabian Nights to recover from that hangover.