Eight Drinks, Four Cups

Neil and I decided to go to the Arcade Fire concert this past summer. About three hours before the show, Neil proclaimed, "I need to get trashed at this concert." Now, being someone who is loath to deny a literal and metaphysical "thirst," I was happy to comply.
After passing countless beer stands, we finally found the only real bar in madison square garden. As we waited in a line of about fifty people, we looked at each other and knew what to do. At the front of the line we each order two double cocktails. The bill was $80. We were incredulous. The waitress looked at us and said, "What do you expect? 8 drinks, 4 cups."