Don't be a David

Hiro Ballroom, Mr Flash, Passing Out on the Floor, Good Times

Last night was free Lucky Beer 10-11 at Hiro Ballroom, with some DJs or something behind the beer -- whatever, I wasn't paying attention. The stage has been replaced by a small faux-Japanese altar with a single mac laying upon it, bright white apple shining for all to see and worship, some tattooed dude administering to it like a high priest.



Open Bars, of course, are a science. One beer per person at a time for an hour isn't all that much beer, especially when they don't let you in for a half an hour. However, after downing two beers in frenetic desperation I come upon the formula: one beer per person at a time, spread out over four bartenders is like, a beer every three minutes, without drawing too much attention. So I clear out some table space for my stash and muster about seven beers, and figure I'll be good for the night.





I did manage to drink all the beers I hunter-gathered for myself and still managed to leave early. The only one I didn't drink was the one given to me by the other dudes at the table, a set of three older fellows in their 30s, one asian, one a large man who could have been hispanic or greek, the last one white. They were literally smoking cigarettes under the table, flirting with the URB magazine intern taking photos. All the while I'm thinking, shit, I'm totally hanging with the dirtiest dudes in town.

Meanwhile I'm snapping photos of random shit just in case anything cool happens. Well, nothing cool happens.





Mind you, I get pretty friggin' drunk and stumble all the way to the 6 with the help of a few well-placed phone calls, two crunchy tacos, and a spacious inner jacket pocket for the remaining beer (which, I find, made it all the way home and is still on my bookshelf, half-full, in the morning).



What I didn't do is make it to work in the morning, since I woke up on the floor of my room at 9 and realized I couldn't move without assistance. So: single remaining steady source of income finally blown off, and we are once again floating in the breeze