I could have blogged all weekend, but alas, what do you say when “whatever happens in (insert city here),” in fact, stays in that city?
We’ve been on a work adventure trip in my favorite city, where all we have really managed to do is work, eat and drink, and probably not in that particular order. 
I’m exhausted and stuffed and ready to be done with work but I don’t really want to go home. I volunteered to work the holiday weekend just because it’s a change of pace. I mean, where in D.C. can you get a decent pastrami sammich and a chocolate egg cream? We went to one of Michael Jordan’s restaurants and Bobby Flay’s Mesa Grille, to name a few, and it’s just nice to feel a little bit spoiled and a whole lot appreciated.
What I will say is that we always know when B. hits town, as the next morning? EVERYONE is wrecked. It was the Sidecar drink that derailed me — Hennessy and lord only knows what else. All I know is that I walked the streets of Midtown Manhattan for hours, froze my ass off and still came back drunk … and I don’t remember a minute of it!
Funny how we don’t have the memories of the best times in our heads, but we know they happened … usually when you pull out all your receipts and faint when you see your signature and don’t remember pulling out your credit card. …