Last week, I went to Midtown with wet hair.

It wasn’t even 7:30 p.m. Wednesday when I got the text: “Where are you? We’re leaving soon!” I know you’ve gotten the same text at an ungodly, pre-sunset hour too.

Panicked, I whipped my damp, shoulder-length hair into a high ponytail. As you can probably imagine, it did not look good. I tried to remedy the situation by wrapping it around one of those donut bun things. It looked even worse than before. Alas, it was 7:30 p.m., and I knew lines were already starting to form in front of every bar on West University Avenue. I didn’t have a choice.

That night, with a bun on my head, I looked like I thought I was going to some sort of gala. But I was just going to drink a pitcher of Dog Lager with my friends.

You may or may not remember a time when that “where are you?” text came well after 9 p.m. or even 10 p.m. It was a time when you and your friends could enjoy your pregame, complete with throwback playlists and Snapchats and conversations about your days. You didn’t have to keep an eye on the time to make sure you called your Uber by 8 p.m. because there was an understanding that we, as a Student Body, don’t go out until 11 p.m.

Those days are over. Guys, this phenomenon sweeping our university must be stopped. Year by year, it seems that we’ve slowly moved up the time that we “make moves.” Now we have to wait in line for more than an hour if we don’t get there before the bars open. We must be almost nearing the breaking point. What’s next? Will I have to start going to my 4:05 p.m. class in wedges?

This new schedule has deprived us of the post-dinner, pre-pregame hours that I, for one, really cherished. Between 7 p.m. and 9 p.m., I could try cooking a new recipe for dinner. Or, more likely, I could watch an episode of “Chopped” on Netflix. I could take an online quiz or catch up on the news. I could take my time doing my makeup, which, jokes aside, I’ve found to be a meditative and relaxing time to think about nothing but blending. We’ve robbed ourselves of those hours and exchanged them for bites of Chipotle in between sips of vodka cranberries at our friends’ apartments — all so that we can make it to Midtown faster.

We spend enough of the day running from class, to the library, to the gym and to meetings. We shouldn’t have to work to beat the clock to get out before everyone else, too (unless we’re going to Beat the Clock).

I can’t be the only one ready to go back to the way things were. If you’re with me on this one, and I know some of you are because we’ve talked about it while waiting to be banded, it’s time for us to stand together. It might take a few weeks of waiting in lines for a little bit longer until everyone else gets the message, but I promise that having those extra hours will be well worth it.

So pour yourselves another drink before heading out tonight. Add a few more songs to your going-out playlists. And seriously, take the time to blow-dry your hair. You deserve it.

Carly Breit is a UF journalism senior. Her column appears on Thursdays.