Drunk people: you can’t live with ’em, you can’t live without ’em. One of the most annoying aspects of getting drunk is that you’ll typically have to surround yourself with fellow drunkards, who on the whole aren’t the most pleasurable of people to be lumbered with.
With that being said, here are the 8 types of drunk people you’ll meet in a club. Which one are you?
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8 Types of Drunk People You Meet in a Club
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The Embarrassing Drunk
We've all stumbled cautiously across the line between drunk and shitfaced before, sometimes finding ourselves unwittingly tipping over the edge and having to be shoved into a taxi by our peers while we vomit on our trousers. However, the embarrassing drunk does this so frequently that their increasing lack of dignity is almost respectable, as they throw inhibition to the wind in favour of routine public humiliation and declining self-esteem. Who would willingly do this to themselves every weekend? Only someone with deep-rooted emotional problems, probably, but at least they're making you look good by default so maybe it's best to keep them around, eh?
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The Energetic Drunk
How does the energetic drunk remain so energetic? Is it all those Red Bulls he/she uses as mixers? Is it an inextinguishable lust for life? Or is it cocaine? Whatever the cause is behind their "exuberance", it's fucking annoying. No one wants to watch some stranger treat the dancefloor like their own personal slip 'n' slide, throwing themselves into onlookers with reckless abandon while writhing around like an anaconda wrapping itself around its prey. We all like to have a good time, but the energetic drunk's habit of bouncing off the walls is, at the very least, irritating, and at the very worst, bloody exhausting to watch.
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The Happy Drunk
The happy drunk could also be described as the tolerable drunk, as he/she will find people radiating to them as the evening progresses and more people succumb to the Dark Side of the Booze. The happy drunk is to be valued, appreciated, respected and, above all else, befriended, because they're the ones most likely to buy everyone a round of drinks.
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The Baffled Drunk
The baffled drunk seems to belong to no set of friends in particular, instead spending the majority of the night staring into nothingness on the side of the dancefloor, with their eyes glazed over and utterly confused by their surroundings. No one knows how the baffled drunk got here, not even the baffled drunk.
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The Handsy Drunk
Handsy drunks come in two categories: perverts and those who lack "limb awareness".
The former category is obviously much more reprehensible, and is largely dominated by tiny-vested walking haircuts who believe that the quickest way to a girl's heart is by a pinch of her buttocks and a shit-eating grin. The latter category is a little more acceptable, if still intensely irritating, as handsy drunks who are unaware of what actions they are performing with their limbs typically spend the entire night slumped up against you, whispering incomprehensible nothings into your ear and refusing to let you enjoy yourself in favour of propping them up all night.
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The Sloppy Drunk
The least likely to make it out of the night alive, and the most likely to say "call me a drunk, I'm taxi."
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The Naked Drunk
The amount of clothes that the naked drunk wears is directly proportionate to just how clattered he/she is. If only moderately tipsy, the naked drunk will perhaps have removed their shirt in a crude mating attempt/an act of tribal aggression, but then after a few too many they'll likely have reduced themselves to just their underwear, flaunting their semi-naked body while dancing with all the coordination and enthusiasm of a particularly apathetic slow loris. In an age of camera phones, the naked drunk is often the most regretful drunk.
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The Early Drunk
The early drunk is hunched over the toilet during pre-drinks, barfing up his/her stomach lining until it makes the ceramic bowl take the appearance of a Tracey Emin art piece. If the early drunk makes it to the club, which they're likely to do so while facing extreme opposition from their friends who already envisage a night of tear-soaked melodrama, then they effectively become a ticking time bomb and are just one Jägerbomb away from blowing up in an explosion of kebab meat, spilt beer, smudged mascara and mysterious stains.
