There’s a moment—usually mid-hangover, face-down on the sofa, scrolling through blurry videos from the night before—when you think: I cannot keep doing this. It might hit you after your third consecutive Sunday of shame, or when someone calls a vodka-cran “your drink”...

There’s a moment—usually mid-hangover, face-down on the sofa, scrolling through blurry videos from the night before—when you think: I cannot keep doing this. It might hit you after your third consecutive Sunday of shame, or when someone calls a vodka-cran “your drink”...