Uncle Barry's Sports Bar, 2:30 AM
I've been drinking with a bearded guy from Wisconsin all night, maintaining a steady conversation about his humble upbringing on a dairy farm, his work for an international human rights NGO, how much he loves his mother, etc. He pays for a fourth round of drinks, and I decide to ask if he remembers my name. He doesn't, and when he asks whether I remember his, I scream "THAT'S NOT THE POINT!" and sprint to the nearest subway. Poor Alex (Andrew?).
Analysis: I’m an idiot.
Mechanical Bull Place, 12:00 AM
I attend a fancy holiday party with some friends. Afterwards, we go to [...]