Armitage’s 21.

There were almost thirty of us dressed in black tie. A huddle of penguins eager to smash some cocktails. Sharp suits and bowties. Gleaming smiles and a fair amount of slicked back hair. Plus one dude in a kaftan. Tomorrow we’d be The Hangover, but tonight we’re straight outta Goodfellas.  A deadly tequila Old Fashioned at &UNION got things started. Bit of meet and greet. Then we’re off to Twankey Bar. Stop traffic en route. Hit the bar. Thirty martini glasses lined up. Grab a chair and a Canton martini. Sugary, but not as sweet as this bar. Classy joint. Quick shot of Canton – jeez, that stuff is good -  then we’re off.

Short walk to Cafe Mojito. Polished footwear gleams under streetlights. People assume we’re a bachelors, so we play along. “Give that man a Bells!” Or rather, make it a caipirinha. A strong one. Strong enough to rattle your teeth. Cachaca, or ‘Brazilian cane,’ as we name it. Someone buys the bachelor a pink drink. A random girl kisses him and wishes him good luck. Kaftan man buys some funny shit from Adult World. Plenty of joking. We’re back in high school and it’s break time. Bunch of guys having a laugh. Our suits might be worth a year’s school fees, but we’re still just kids.

Onto Murano bar at 15 on Orange. Wish they’d got as creative with their name as they did with their interior design. The place is swish. Designer furniture everywhere. Glass, stone and steel. A bit cold. “Welcome to Dubai.” Does anybody know it’s open? We’re the only people there. By now we’re jovial enough not to care. And their vanilla bourbon sour is a knockout. “Two please.” Group photo. Oceans 11 stuff, this. Vintage. More cocktails. Another bar. A longer walk. A stronger cocktail. Even worse behaviour. This cocktail circuit is really a glorified pub crawl. But wearing a suit makes you feel like you can get away with anything. We lose a few. We gain some.  Gradually things warp into a soft fuzzy texture. We’re in a real life pointillist artwork. More surrealist. Is that clock melting? Dali titled one of his pieces The Persistence of Memory. He obviously didn’t drink this many cocktails.