Last night Jen's friend from high school, who is now a cop in LA, came to visit us in the Big Apple. Somehow what started off as an innocent night of drinking became one of the biggest debacles I’ve witnessed in a while. We were playing pool, singing along to our favorite tunes, and befriending strangers when suddenly our good time came to a screeching halt. I will leave the gory details to Jen, but for now I will share with you the recurring images that have been plaguing me since I stumbled into the office this morning.

- Being informed by a girl at Finally Fred’s while we lounged in the back patio that Cop Dave had fallen, according to witnesses, “like a dropped puppet” to the floor of the bar. Apparently a resuscitation attempt was underway on the very pool table we had been playing on minutes before.

- Being helped by Greg, a kind man with whom we had played pool, who moved Cop Dave to the curb in front of the bar, where droves of people had gathered to watch the spectacle. In an attempt to shock Dave into sobriety, Greg dumped a glass of water on Dave’s head and rubbed it all around. Greg also tried to feed Dave water out of his cupped hands as if he were helping a thirsty puppy.

- Driving to Brooklyn in Greg’s SUV, with Dave in the back seat, strapped in and flopping about like a rag doll. He would occasionally regain consciousness, only to accuse us of dosing him with PCP (this was not true). On the way back to Manhattan, Greg informed me that he had once been blind, and underwent a miraculous procedure that enabled him to regain his site, such that he was now able to drive.

Sweet sweet alcohol, you’ve ravaged us again, and left a hungover, if not befuddled, first-time visitor to our fair city in your wake.

Jen will fill you in on the rest. I’m just here to deliver the teaser. Now I'm off to meet a friend - for an alcohol free evening. I promise.