I know I am a day late on this update, but I only recently figured out my ass from my elbow. Miles is still probably locating both...
Friday night was genius...You want a guaranteed great time? Gather 20 of your closest friends and buy out a section at a sporting event of your choice. Doesn't matter what sport, just as long as there is beer and a few players to yell at. It was great, and what started out as a fairly innocent trip to a basketball game ended with a contest to see who could yell the most obscure things about basketball. My "Big Country" references only got me so far until a friend of Miles' who owns a jazz club took the loud, drunken cake with references to Knicks benchwarmers from 1986. The Knicks lost, but everyone else won.
We wrapped the night up in the seaport at a very quiet, low key, low-lit little bar called Fresh Salt. It was a perfect counterpoint to the game as the people who started off their night using a foam finger to drink smuggled Jim Beam were now discussing quietly the subtext in a film like "No Country for Old Men".
Things got fuzzy for me as everyone was leaving and we were doing our best to recreate the cover of "Critical Beatdown" with our digital cameras.
We failed, obviously, but ended up with some ridiculous pictures. The night closed as the birds started chirping, sending everyone out to track down their respective asses, elbows...
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