...and not a moment too soon. My costume consisted of an all-black outfit with an orange hat and a saltshaker around my neck. I was dressed as a Duracell battery, so my costume in full was "assault and battery." Evidently, that took too much thought because most people couldn't figure it out.
Anyway, the hardcore members of The G Unit met at Winter's house and headed to Steve's Bar where the DJ spins kickin' music. Seriously, this guy gets it DONE and I can speak with authority since I've now twice witnessed what happens on the dance floor there. By the end of the night, I had danced/grinded with a law student, two Jamaican men and all the G Unit males present, befriended a Peruvian tequila salesman named Guillermo who kept giving us free shots, polished off a rum and coke, a gin and tonic, an Irish car bomb and a Jaeger bomb, felt up a man wearing fake boobs, broken three glasses, and fallen down the stairs. I have the nasty bruises to prove it.
By all means, it was a successful night.
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