Alex: Dude, I just got off work and I’m already dying for the weekend. What are we doing tomorrow night? We haven’t done anything fun in forever.
Ben: I’ve been thinking the same thing all week. I finish work at six tomorrow, so by seven I’ll be free. We should go out. Like, actually go out, not just “sit on someone’s couch and scroll TikTok” again.
Chris: Yes! I’m in. I worked late every day this week, so tomorrow I’m claiming my life back. Where are we going?
Dana: First, let’s eat. I’ve been craving tacos since Monday. There’s that new place on 5th that everyone keeps posting about. We’ll go there, we’ll stuff our faces, then we’ll decide what’s next.
Alex: Perfect. I’ll drive. I drove last time too, but whatever. My car’s been sitting in the garage all week anyway.
Emma: Wait, are we drinking or keeping it chill? Because if we drink, I’m not driving home. I took an Uber last time we went hard and it was forty bucks.
Ben: Let’s play it by ear. We’ll start with margaritas at the taco place — they’re supposed to be lethal — and then we’ll see how we feel. If we’re too buzzed, we’ll just Uber everywhere. Money comes and goes, memories don’t.
Chris: Spoken like a man who got paid today. Alright, tacos at 7:30. After that… mini-golf? I saw they opened a new indoor one with black lights. Looks ridiculous.
Dana: I played there last weekend with my coworkers. It’s hilarious. I lost spectacularly, but I laughed so hard I cried. Let’s do it.
Emma: I’ll bring my glow-in-the-dark nails. I just did them yesterday. They’re going to look insane under black lights.
Alex: Okay, so plan so far: 7:30 tacos, 9:00-ish mini-golf. What happens after we inevitably destroy each other at mini-golf?
Ben: Karaoke? There’s that private-room place downtown. We booked a room once, remember? We sang until 2 a.m. and the staff hated us.
Chris: Oh my god, yes. I still have the video of you attempting “Bohemian Rhapsody.” I watch it when I need to laugh.
Dana: Rude but fair. I’m down. I’ve been practicing “Before He Cheats” in the shower all month. My neighbors probably hate me, but tomorrow they won’t be there to complain.
Emma: I’ll request “Sweet Caroline” just to watch all of you scream the “bah bah bah” at the top of your lungs. It happens every time we drink.
Alex: Deal. So tomorrow we will eat, we will golf, we will sing, and we will regret nothing on Sunday morning.
Ben: Sunday morning we’ll be ordering hangover breakfast burritos and hating sunlight. That’s tradition.
Chris: Speaking of Sunday — we should do something low-key. Maybe a hike? I found this trail that’s only 45 minutes away. We’ve been talking about hiking for, what, two years now?
Dana: I’ll believe it when I see it. Every time we plan a hike, someone sleeps until noon and we end up watching Netflix instead.
Emma: Not this time. I’m setting fifty alarms. We’ll leave at 9 a.m., we’ll hike, we’ll take aesthetic photos for Instagram that we’ll never post, and then we’ll reward ourselves with brunch mimosas.
Alex: I like this energy. Okay, new rule: whoever sleeps in on Sunday pays for everyone’s brunch.
Ben: That’s evil. I love it. I’m definitely waking up now out of pure fear.
Chris: Done. So tomorrow: tacos, mini-golf, karaoke apocalypse. Sunday: hike or financial punishment.
Dana: I’m already excited. I’ve been stuck in meetings all week — this is the first time in forever I’m actually looking forward to the weekend.
Emma: Same. Work has been killing me slowly. Tomorrow night I’m turning my phone off at 7 p.m. sharp. No emails, no Slack, nothing.
Alex: Cheers to that. Alright, I’m saving this chat so none of us flake tomorrow.
Ben: Too late, I already screenshotted it. If anyone bails, I’m posting the “Bohemian Rhapsody” video.
Chris: You monster.
Dana: See you all tomorrow at 7:30. I’m wearing stretchy pants for maximum taco capacity.
Emma: Love you idiots. This is going to be the best weekend we’ve had in months.
Alex: It better be. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to bed early tonight so I’ll have energy to destroy you all at mini-golf tomorrow.
Ben: Dream on, buddy. I’ve been practicing my putt in the hallway all week.
Chris: Nobody believes you.
Dana: Night, losers. Tomorrow we live.