You Don't Have To Go Home...But You Can't Stay Here...

You really can't ask for more out of a Saturday night. There was Tyson the bartender who - with much class - sent down a petite strawberry pina colada for Rachel. Keeping her birthday at the restaraunt low-key - nixing the sombrero and ominous clapping. After good food - there was the piano bar where four friends sang to Elton John's "Tiny Dancer", Metallica's "Enter Sandman" and somebody's "My Dingaling." A phone call assured me that Kim was having just as much fun as we were - and was in just as much danger of a horrific hangover. Embarrassing moments all caught on the RAZR. After we closed down the bar to "Closing Time" by Semisonic - We hit Starbucks so the Designated Driver (that would be me) could have a night-cap of her own. The Starbucks was free. The Starbucks...was free. The STARBUCKS WAS FREE. Thanks to a computer glitch. The ride home was lively with multiple mad dash pullovers for multiple passengers to toss their evenings eatings into the street - and as I crawled into bed I hummed to myself... Closing time, one last call for alcohol so finish your whiskey or beer... Closing time, you don't have to go home but you can't...stay...here...