CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT

The morning following the night before! The hangover is making my life a living hell, and I feel I need to be hooked up to an IV drip indefinitely. I had heard about this hangover club in the United States, where you could make a call, and a nurse would come to treat your hangover. I even googled it; however, I could not discover anything nearby that provided this service.

After that, the flashes begin. The first one that comes to mind is when I saw someone dancing in the middle of the street to a busker; I thought he was quite excellent.

After that, I began to wonder how I managed to pay for the taxi. I thank the Lord that the Scot left before I got too inebriated because I shudder to think about what would have transpired if he had remained there. At this very time, I cannot recall the latter half of the night, but the fact that I have to put on my Ray-Bans to open the curtains indicates that it was a fantastic evening.

As I look around the room, I mutter, "Shit, my phone." Finally,