10 Bars, 32 Cigarettes, and 2 Uncomfortable Shoes

9:30 p.m. Ale House (1) I point out: "Hey, my mom got married here." The three of us turn to look at what was once the "altar." Now people are playing pool on it. El Dilector declares The Rules. "If everyone else is finished, the last person with drink must either leave it or slam it." El Dilector and I look at our cocktail glasses, which have been drained. Big Guy responds to this challenge by putting a straw in his glass, standing up, putting both palms flat on the bar and finishing the rest of his hard core cider through the straw. He complains of brain freeze. I complain about his choice of hard core cider as an alcoholic beverage.

10:10 p.m. We find MackTate on the street, via cell phone, and he agrees to El Dilector's plan. We apprise him of The Rules.

10:13 p.m. The Drink. The Drink should be renamed The Desert, as there is no one there but the bartender and her breasts. We leave. Debate on the sidewalk ensues about whether or not to count The Drink on the list, since there were no drinks consumed. Consensus: It does not count.

10:15 p.m. Blind Pig Pub (2) El Dilector reminisces about his sweet, albeit brief glimpse of the perfect breasts—er, silicone implants—behind the bar at The Drink. MackTate decides to start off slow with a Jack and Coke. One more vodka tonic for me. I'm switching to beer at the next place or I'll never see the fourth bar.

10:45 p.m. Ritz (3) We head to the back bar and proceed to down sticky sweet kamikaze shots. (So far I've avoided buying a round for the group. Sweet!) Our time check reveals we cannot play air hockey, to Big Guy's extreme chagrin.

11:00 p.m. Cheers (4) The bouncer is the largest man I have ever seen. I stare at him, realize I'm staring, look away, then look back as nonchalantly I can, considering the 36 ounces of liquor I've just consumed. "Hi. You're scary," I slur. He laughs. Sort of. Unfortunately, the Boobsey Twins have beat us to their favorite shot bar. Boobsey Twin I has managed to hook up with her ex-boyfriend Idiot Boy, who could never remember my name, though her name is the same as mine, and at the time they were dating, my boyfriend had the same name as him. It turns out he still can't remember my name. I drink something masquerading as a lemon drop shot. (Still free liquor. Wooo!)

11:15 p.m. Aquarium (5) El Dilector insists that we head to The Aquarium with The Boobsey Twins and their entourage-and then promptly disappears. Idiot Boy tries unsuccessfully to charm me; apparently he still can't remember that we've met before. I quickly shut him down with a scathing comment. Can't remember what that one was, but I know it was good! Big Guy helps me down a pint of Dos Equis, after finishing his drink. Hey, what happened to The Rules? Hey, what happened to El Dilector and MackTate?

11:30 p.m. Casino el Camino (6) Big Guy and I try and fail to play Ms. Pacman/Galaga. I also fail to grasp the concept of two video games combined into one. "But again, how can one game really be two?" I try to make myself heard over the death metal and try without success to not stare at the bartender's ears: he has earrings made out of grappling hooks.

12:17 a.m. Red-Eyed Fly (7) I've started limping considerably. Damn these sexy silver shoes. MackTate's opinion—over yet another Jack and Coke; I'm looking into a Dos Equis with something like misery on my face—is that girls shouldn't have to wear uncomfortable shoes. I explain that because I'm short, they are a necessity. "I embrace your shortness!" MackTate proclaims. Meanwhile, Big Guy is expounding on the origin of "clusterfuck" and "fubar." I struggle with the idea of walking.

12:42 a.m. Bull McCabe's (8) I stare into yet another beer, contemplating the intelligence of this plan. Bar 8? Where are we? What's my name again? Then there's a crash as the door next to the jukebox rattles. Oh, that's just some guy pushing his sister repeatedly into a wall. The thing is, she seems to be having fun with it. They MUST be drunker than we are. I HOPE they're drunker than we are. "ARE YOU SCARED?!" Abusive Boy asks me, while his sister laughs. "ARE YOU CRAZY?!" I want to yell back, but instead nod and look plaintively—which is probably closer to drunkenly—at Big Guy. "Please don't ever let El Dilector push me around like that," I tell him. "WE'RE JUST HAVING FUN!" Abusive Boy yells, laughing much like his sister, with a strange, wild hilarity, and pushes her again into the wall. I can't even get away from them by going to the bathroom, as a large puddle of urine blocks my access.

1:11 a.m. Ocean's 11 (9) Big Guy disappears after a suspicious banana-flavored shot. El Dilector says to the bouncer, "Did you see a big, burly guy pass through here?" and gestures to the door. The bouncer shakes his head. "Nope." We stumble outside to discover that (1) the bouncer must be blind because yes, indeed, Big Guy has left the building. And (2) the banana shot did not agree with him.

1:30 a.m. Club deVille (10) We've made it! I have progressed from limping to hopping, due to extreme pain on my left foot where sexy silver shoe strap cuts menacingly into my tender skin. Note to self: Wear tennis shoes next time out. Second note to self: Hopping after nine drinks is a bad idea. Big Guy is trying to rally after the failed banana shot. El Dilector disappears—again. MackTate appears sober, as always. He smiles. "Good times. Good times."

-Shakira 6.15.02