You speed home after work to get ready for your date. You could stand to brush your teeth and your hair, and you will if you have time, but you've got more important business to attend to. You go to your fridge before going anywhere else, withdrawing a pack of beers. You pound them back, one after the other, until all six are gone. As it turns out, that only took about two minutes per beer, meaning you have enough time for...fifty or so more. Once it's time to head out, you crawl to your cart and melt into the seat behind the wheel. You have some sensation of starting the car, driving it away, and getting into a terrible accident, but you're too drunk to be sure if that really happens. Maybe you just got in and died preemptively? Maybe you were hit by a meteor? You're too wasted to be sure how it happens, but you know that at some point in the process of trying to drive your car, you die.