Martini

I was thinking about a good friend of mine, West Coast Bob and It brought back a memory of a night when we both lived in Chicago. As best as I can remember it, it was around Christmas and my birthday, and a friend was having a holiday party, at a bar, that was an open bar, (I love the open bar). I decided that to maximize the free booze I would have martinis. I am not a liquor pussy, and have had many a martini in my life so what's the harm. I remember Bob looking at me, with disapproving eyes when I said "come on lets all have martinis!" No one took the bait but me. Fast forward a couple of hours and It was my own private party, or at least I was the host. I would have had a conversation with a lamp. There did come a point that night that I knew it was time to leave. But where was my coat? Forget my coat, what bar was this again, and how do I get home from here. I pleaded with Bob and Matt to get my coat from coat check, they both just cast that knowing smile, thinking "I know Michael, he's not that bad off, and anyway you dance with the devil (devil=martini)..." As I try to process how to get through the crowd to get my coat and get out of there I'm still in party mode, chatting with strangers, enemies, bartenders, and sofa pillows. I have a fuzzy memory of getting into a cab but the next real memory I have is waking up, at home (thank god) alone, (thank god again?) in bed nude. When I wake up nude, I know that heavy drinking was involved, (once I woke up nude with a Checkers Cheese Burger wrapper and a pickle stuck to my forehead ah youth). I thought Jesus I left my coat, I love that coat, I go into the living room to see my front door ajar, my clothing and coat in the doorway keeping it form closing. That was my last open martini bar, but not my last martini.