So the moot court competition did not go so well. My primary concern was that I didn't get blamed for our lack of progression, I was worried about choking - that didn't happen. The rest of my team was furious with the way things shook out, they left for home even though we all had 2 more nights on our hotel rooms.
Well shit, those hotel rooms were nicer than my bedroom, so I decided to stick it out another night. Fortunately, I had a San Jose homeboy who was willing to take me out on the town for the evening.
I don't recall everything. I know I started with whisky + sobe, switched to pbrs, helped consume a wee bottle of sake, then we went out. I don't remember ordering much, but I know the tecate rounds were firing off like machine guns at Normandy.
I stumbled into a cab, told brosif to take me back to the hotel. I had him hold my wallet while I withdrew funds from the hotel ATM. He told me it wasn't necessary, I think I assured him it was. I don't remember going to my room, but I woke up without puke on my shirt, so score one for the good guys.
And when I finally looked in my wallet a few hours later, there was a random ass number. No name, I'm not even sure it was a bird I was talking to. The area code is Atlanta, go fucking figure.
Now I'm in Utah, god damn this place is white.
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