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Midtown Train(wreck) to Georgia

I thought Blake's had come and gone. Apparently it's back ... at least on a Sunday. I guess the Backstreet boys ain't go nowhere else to go no more.

I was told that he would be there, which turned out to be lies lies lies wishful thinking. Undaunted, I overcame my jet lag with several vodka red bulls, got my, um, wings, gave a business card to some cute boy named Travis (while slurring telling him "you have to move to London"), and was escorted back to my home away from home by a pair of guardian angels.

It's good to have friends (who have learned to keep their underwear on in bars) to look out for you. (missed you, Philip)

A simpler place and time? I think not. I'm leavin' ... but maybe I'll get me some chicken and waffles first.