Started on a Friday after work -- there was a happy hour for a co-worker's birthday. It was also pay week and a three-day weekend, so everyone was having it out pretty hard at the bar. My roommate Josh showed up and we spent the whole time with a co-worker named Matt and his brother. These boys were 6' 6" easy, shoulders like an ox and arms like legs. They talked to us all night about ironwork and longshormen jobs they'd had. Two of the nicest motherfuckers you'd ever meet.
Around 9pm, loose and ready, Josh and I headed to Old Towne bar nearby for dinner. We filled up on their famous bison burgers and more pints, soon heading to Brooklyn for a friend's apartment party. That went long and loud until 4am. Josh gave good efforts with various girls there, but too many were the uptight Brooklyn kind and wouldn't give him the time of day (or night). I was plenty drunk in not too long and knew I'd be no good to any woman there, so just partied the night away. Josh left late to head home, I crashed there.
Spent the night on my friends futon couch, waking up in my Friday work clothes. Spent the day in Brooklyn with him and his girlfriend, and went straight from there to a girl's apartment for a date. Dinner at her place, then we went to the oldest bar in Brooklyn to drink and play pool all night. Sufficiently lubricated, we headed back to her apartment again. Naturally I put the moves on, but she pulled back and started giving me shit about "going to fast" (it was our second date). This culminated into a mild bout of verbal sparring, and she kicked me out around 12:30am. I'm now an hour away by subway from my apartment, it's 12:30 and I'm riled up and still drunk.
I call my friend Greg, ask him what he's up to. He says he's got an 8am flight to Hawaii. We decide to make a night of it. We hit Dive Bar up on 96th, hitting back pints and cannonballing those with whiskey shots. He runs up a 50-some dollar tab and strikes out with both bartenders (okay we both do...simultaneously. I've been dating a bit and he's got a long-distance girlfriend, we're both a little off our game). Head to Tom's Diner further uptown for breakfast around 3:30. We strike out with about six nineteen-year-old Columbia girls sitting together at the booth next to ours. Breakfast comes and we're happy again. I'm eating my pancakes happily, grinning like a nine-year-old. Greg is nearly passed out with his head on the table. He's about to let a bit go right there under our booth so I yell at him to get outside. While he's gone, I finish my breakfast and some of his and pay the bill. Outside, Greg is leaning against the diner and not knowing which way is what. I put him in a cab around 4:30am and head home. Finally get out of my work clothes from Friday. Greg somehow is up and ready two hours later to make his flight.