If you're a regular peruser of the gallery here, then you're quite familiar with the type of shot above; this one being the San Francisco skyline shot at around 70 mph on the Central Skyway. This week, it also serves as a prelude - an overture, if you will - for my recollection of the night. Having confined myself to the house with a cold on Friday, by Saturday evening, I had cabin fever. On top of that, Damian was in town from the east coast, so I had to go hang with him, Andrew and everyone, right?

In the earlier part of the evening, Dave and I met up with his friend Roya (left picture, center) and her roommate Tara and went to Piyassa. I was dreading going to this place, as from what I understood, it's a Middle Eastern club, and judging by the pictures on the web site, a very stereotypical one. Mind you, I'm half camel jockey, but it's just not my scene. I simply don't wear enough cologne to make it with that crowd. When we got there, it wasn't so bad. The place was tastefully decorated, and as the evening wore on, the music was tolerable. The "DJ" even played some Groove Armada, so everything was good - until he cut the song off midway and abruptly put on some Shaggy. That party foul had me soured, and I took refuge in the quaint little restroom to avoid the music and got on the horn w/ Laura and find out where the crew was meeting up...

With a new hairdo strategically made to look unkempt (isn't that required?) we headed off to Sno Drift, but not without making it under the 2am wire to pick up a bottle of somethin-somethin on the way. Unfortunately, I don't think the bottle lasted very long. This picture was taken maybe within 20 minutes of entering the club. Noticeably, everything that the bottle influenced took on a devious red glow.

See this crowd? No Jack, no red glow... Hmmm...

See these people? Lots of Jack, lots of red. In Dave's case, his redness was partially negated momentarily while holding a can of Red Bull. But without the high-energy antidote, it was back to red. Whatever essence of evil was in the Jack apparently possessed me and made me do a Richard Nixon impression with a glowy bracelet in my mouth. The worst part? I think that bracelet was found on the floor.

The red was inescapable. Dara and Afam had sat near the empty bottle at one point and that was enough to tint them. As proof of this phenomenon, you can see how even while outside, away from any sort of colored lighting, Gareth and Jess maintained normal pigmentation while I still had a red hue.

See? See? Damian was so affected that it took over his pupils!! Is that crazy or what? Ok, truth be told, this whole red thing isn't a result of any spirits, but it's the only uniting theme I could think of for this night. It's pretty unusal for me, but I really don't remember much of the evening, what I did, what I said, or how many times I asked the uncooperative bartender for a cup of ice. Hell, I can't even remember what kind of music they were spinning at Sno-Drift, save for the fact that it had to be better than the stuff earlier in the night, and I was reminded the next day of a drunk-dialing incident that involved a bunch of us singing Modjo's "Lady" into the phone. Anybody who has other details, please feel free to let me know what on god's green earth I missed. All I remember was that I had a really good time, and that's what counts, right?