Boozy weekend brunches are an American pastime as beloved as football and political arguments at Thanksgiving.
I like brunch, and I frequently make plans with my friends to go. But I don't order anything crazy. Two eggs and one coffee ought to do it. Maybe a cocktail.
My friends don't agree with this approach. To them, brunch is a time to forget about paying rent and get a little more tipsy than is commonly accepted as appropriate at 2 p.m. on a Saturday. They say things like, "Yeah, I'll get another Bellini — I'm worth it."
Sure, a bit of indulgence and a great order of hash browns can turn the week around. But the situation becomes dicey when a pattern I've named "Venmo socialism" begins to emerge. Now, I don't have a degree in psychology, but I eat a lot of omelettes, so I know what I'm talking about.
Here's the theory: Everyone knows that when the check comes, it is going to be super complicated to split up who got which drinks, who shared what appetizer, and who ordered the more expensive entree. If there are 10 people eating, it is inevitable that someone will say, "Do you guys just want to split the total 10 ways? We can all Venmo our share."