There are a handful of “bro drinks” out there that, when ordered, instantly make me cringe (internally) with horror. The Long Island Iced Tea, frequently referred to as an L-I-T, is near the top of that short list. I haven’t had one since I was maybe 24 (nearly 20 years ago). There’s a good reason: It’s nasty, ghetto, bro‘ish, lacks sophistication, and is generally not a treat for the palate. Furthermore, it’s deceptively far too high in alcohol content to let you enjoy one after the other without (a) upchucking your lunch in colossal fashion or (b) partaking in the timeless game of Grab-ass with the cute, young stranger directly to your left without permission.