Playing drinking games at Shabbat dinner; is this really who you want to be?

It’s a Friday night and you’re in a frat house. But this is not just any frat house. And this is not just any Friday night. Why is this night different from all other nights, you may ask? Well, my dear bubeleh, it is Shabbat dinner at Sammy. You know this, and still, under the disappointed gaze of Rabbi Yakov, you decide to play flip cup. You sit only one table next to me, but you must be a world away, somewhere it is acceptable to take 10 shots of Manischewitz after the blessing over the wine. 

Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m not against drinking. I’ve been known to dabble in the ol’ Jesus blood once in a while, maybe even the devil’s water, but there is a time and place. I know you may be confused, so I’ve come up with a few pointers. If there is a tablecloth at the dinner, this is not a frat party. If your Jewish Studies professor is there, this is not a frat party. If you have just spent the first half of the evening praising the glory that is God, please do not spend the second half chugging Prosecco (who knew they made it kosher?).

But really, I get it. When else will there be another time that you’re in a frat house with free flowing alcohol and no 21 rules? Except literally an hour later. In that same frat house. Listen, you really don’t need to grab onto every drop of booze that you have in front of you like a grubby little toddler. We are not fourteen years old, sneaking into our mother’s vodka cabinet because she has become preoccupied with her new friend “Steve.” We are adults, and we need to act as such. Now excuse me, while I go get blackout drunk in a frat that doesn’t have prayer books at the table, like an adult.