It’s here — the annual fork in the road. The decision we all have to make: Will I or won’t I ruin my Thanksgiving?

There’s something in the air on Thanksgiving Eve that pulls us off the couch, out of our sweatpants, and back into the neighborhood — a little dressed up, a fresh blowout, and suddenly flirting with someone you haven’t seen since eighth grade.

Back in the day, it was Cat Tunes at Florian Hall. Then, a decade later, Thomas Park took the reins. Beers slowly gave way to Bacardi and Coke or Woo Woo shots. You danced with your friends like tomorrow wasn’t Thanksgiving.  Making out with your longtime neighborhood crush. Bumming cigarettes. And that morning workout or Turkey Trot you vowed to attend? Slowly dissolving into fantasy by drink number four. Followed by a stop for last call at the Emerald Isle or Murphy’s Law.  Night guy clearly didn’t care about day guy. 

And then comes the morning, emerging from the darkness of a full-blown Thanksgiving Eve blackout into the worst hangover of the year. Your parents are already clanging pots and pans. You said you’d be up bright and early to help, but that empty promise didn’t survive the night. You throw up in the hamper so your parents don’t hear you in the bathroom. You drink water straight from the faucet.

So you spend the day in the fetal position, watching the Thanksgiving Day Parade or the National Dog Show, hoping someone tosses a roll in your direction. That’s about all you can handle. Meanwhile, your phone is buzzing, a group text trying to piece together the night after everything went a little fuzzy around drink number five. (or old school phone calls for those of us born in the 60s/70s).  Plans start forming immediately to meet up again at the neighborhood bar that’s open on Thanksgiving. Hair of the dog. It’s practically a rite of passage. And honestly? Some of the funniest, fondest memories of my twenties live right there.

Today, I’m slightly tempted to head to the Seapoint to see Dennis Taylor perform on Thanksgiving Eve. Dancing, drinking, reliving my youth . But chances are I’ll be home, preparing for the family dinner. The family dinner that my sons may have a hard time eating due to Thanksgiving Eve celebrations gone too hard.

It’s now my sons who are staring down the big Thanksgiving Eve decision: Will I or won’t I? And I’ll encourage them to live their life — within reason. After all, I’m the mother.

What are your favorite Thanksgiving Eve memories? Let us know in the comments below.