An open letter to bartenders

I have a drinking problem. Surprisingly, I don't think the problem is that I drink too much. It's the consequences of my drinking actions that have me concerned. While I enjoy the process, the results are definitely not always equally enjoyable.

Which leads me to my main point. I cannot go at this alone. I need a sponsor, an ally in this war, someone to keep me accountable. I don't see anyone more fitting for this role than you Mr./Ms. Bartender. You can be my piano man right? No pressure. All you have to do is keep me focused. I don't need medication, just your dedication. If you could, keep me from staying until you turn the lights on. Don't let me help you stack the barstools. Don't let me have a to go cup. Don't let me tell the cab driver to take me to freedom. Or to his leader. Don't let me hide in the bathroom stall, hoping you'll leave soon and I can have the rest of the keg to myself. Don't allow me to continue spending money like I have it. I'll tip you better if you help me understand why I've ordered a round of shots for 14 people I don't know. Don't laugh at my jokes. Don't light my cigarettes (I'm still quitting). Don't allow me to declare "Late Night!" at any point. Don't let me use my weapon (phone or any other) after my fourth drink. Don't let me borrow yours because that would make our arrangement slightly uncomfortable. Don't refuse to tell me the woman I'm sitting next to is a trainwreck. In other words, don't rest on your laurels. Be proactive.

You see, we need each other. So let's start acting like the pals we've always been. You scratch my back, I'll scratch yours. Come on buddy, follow these helpful suggestions and you and me can lick this problem once and for all.