Seriously... you're stumbling home.  Look, it's the seven rum & cokes.  Well, six rum & cokes, and one shot of whatever the hell that was... tequila?  I don't remember.  Luckily the N-train showed up quickly, and so did the 7-train.  F*ck, its like 53 degrees outside.  Damn its chilly.  Wait, did I say seven rum & cokes?  I still call them Cuba Libres.

Sh*t, I forgot about the six rum & cokes before that, before 10:00, before I took the cab to Frat Boy Heaven.  Back when I was on the LES, on Delancy.  That feels like a long time ago. The after work, 2 for 1 place.  Whiskey Ward.   2 for 1 was really 3 for 1.  That bartender and me go back.  To the pre-gentrification era.  

Then around the corner to the other bar, the new one with the benches.   Three drinks and a beer there.  Hop in the cab, go to meet up at the next party in frat boy hell.  2 drinks, a shot, and another drink when your boy had to add a drink to close his tab.  Off to another bar six blocks away.  Birthday girl is drunk.  Two drinks, another round for free.  

And now you are heading home.  That's what, 13 straws total?  14?  You get off the subway.  It's 2 hours past midnight.  Not too late, you reckon.  At least it's not one of those 5 AM, 6 AM nights.  The streets are empty. 

Well, not totally.  

What the hell is Russian Mafia doing outside, working on his jumper?

He's kinda scared.  Tomorrow afternoon, he gets One Shot.  One Game.  One on One, like Hall & Oates*.  Beat the Russian Mafia's golden boy in a game of 21, and all his debts are forgiven.  Lose, and there goes the house.  The House.  There goes the car.  The Car.  There goes the firstborn.  The Firstborn.  There goes the left arm.  Lefty.  

I've got ten hours to improve my game, man.  This is for you, left arm.  2:00AM, working on my jumper.

*Hall & Oates?  Please... John Oates barely gets to breath on the mic on this joint.  This is pure Hall right here.

I showed the GF the pics of this:

GF:  Wow, is that the same guy from last time, practicing again?

SML:  I don't think.  This one looked different.

GF:  Lot of marital strife in the neighborhood, huh?

SML:  Ha.  I forgot to tell ya... the other day, when I was heading to work late, around 1 in the afternoon... I noticed this girl practicing by herself at the courts.  She was pretty good, actually.  Drained a three pointer, than hit a layup.

GF:  Someone needs to start a league in the neighborhood or something....

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