Burn out the night...I'm living for giving the devil his due

The dust is finally beginning to settle. Amazingly I have been able to sleep in my apartment for the past two nights! While I'm still maneuvering my way around stacks of boxes and still have no refrigerator, I can honestly say that the move part of this move is complete.

If you've been paying attention you will notice that there was a four night gap between when I was out of my old apartment and when I finally got to sleep in my new one. Instead of boring you with further tales of my moving woes, I would rather regale you with the story of Saturday night:

The night began in the late afternoon when I met Mrs. Robinson and Grandmaster Melle Mel at Inoteca for a little summer white and people watching. After being caught up on all the drama (finally drama that has nothing to do with me or my life), it was time to take a little break, shower and change into the only other clean shirt I had. While rocking out to Blue Oyster Cult (MORE COWBELL!) on Vh1 Classics it was clearly time for Mrs. Robinson and I to break out the sparks (we did solemnly swear we were up to no good!). After finishing one, we take to the streets, second Sparks in hand. Now for those of you who have been long time readers of VTB you will know that one of the many reasons we love the Sparks has been our ability to drink it on the street. Well apparently, this is no longer the case.

We made it not five steps from Mrs. Robinson's front door before a plain clothes copper walks over to us and asks for identification, quickly reminding us that open containers are not allowed on the streets. We hand over our licenses as the officer makes some joke about us having warrants out for murder charges. yes, mr. policeman, you're very funny. He hands our ID over to his partner, who mind you is sitting in a converted yellow cab (which i have to admit, is pretty damned cool).

In the next 5-7 minutes while we're waiting for the cops to run our ID's and figure out what they're going to do with us, I have visions of receiving a DAT* and having to go to 100 Center where none other than the ex would be working arraignments that day and would be assigned my case. In other words what a damned nightmare.

Good news? The cop decides to let us go - reminding us once again that Sparks are, in fact, alcoholic and cannot be drank on the street. It was barely 10:30pm. We head to the first bar and meet up once again with Grandmaster Melle Mel and her good friend M. The night continued until 4:30am and was replete with too much grey goose, getting dressed in public restrooms, random bitches from Boston who don't know their place, and boobs on the bowery (seriously, and by boobs I don't mean idiots). Full details will remain with those who were present. The not-so innocent will remain protected.


* DAT = desk appearance ticket - you don't get arrested but it requires you to voluntarily appear for arraignment on a given date.