Oh My.

The great thing about having a camera with you during a day of heavy drinking is that, the next day, you can relive the experience all over again for the first time.

I'll have more to say about the utter debauchery that was the Boathouse later today, after I wait to see if the amnesia clears any further, but for now check out the photos.

Bash at the Boathouse

7:19pm Update: I think I'm sufficiently detoxed enough to attempt a stab at a write-up. Some of the SoCo is probably -still- sloshing through my veins, but it should all be burned off by Thursday. I make no apologies for the glaring holes in my memory (and therefore, my write-up); I expect you all to provide more complete retellings to help jog my SoCo-addled memory.

At the top, I should humbly accept the Lewey Award for Public Intoxication that was bestowed upon me by Dr. Pauly. There's no substitute for the real Lewey, but I gave it my best shot, getting about as hammered as I could possibly get without (a) passing out, (b) puking or (c) falling down. Thank god EvaCanHang brought me that cheesesteak from Delaware, or I surely would still be wandering around the Great Valley Corporate Center, wondering why I can't find the entrance for the number 4 train.

We were all poker bloggers, of course, so cards were in the air around 3pm. The bar didn't officially open until 4pm, however, which meant the first hour was played stone cold sober. Boooooo to that, I say. That didn't stop me, Dr. Pauly, Carter, Dawn Summers, StB, Landow, Derek, Mrs. Spaceman or Jason Spaceman from having a great time at Table 2 by raising, check-raising and dropping the Hammer repeatedly -- things just got better after 4pm once the booze was flowing.

We played on through the afternoon and evening. Cards were flung, chips passed back and forth, stories were swapped, and copious amounts of alcohol were consumed. Most of these people are career alcoholics, kids. If you want to last the night, pacing is key. Unfortunately for me, =StB led the charge promptly at 4pm, and I hit my first Southern at 4:10pm and never looked back. Between the company and the alcohol, I started to play extremely loose, and was catching. At our $40, $0.50-$1 NLHE table, I hit a high water mark of $170 (no rebuys).

Eventually, our table broke and I replaced The Rooster at Table 1, where 2-4 HORSE was the name of the game. In effect, I got to "double dip" and was one of the few players that managed to play cards with almost every poker blogger in attendance -- which was simply fantastic. By the time Table 1 broke, goofiness was clearly beginning to reign its head.

With poker firmly out of the way, it was time to enjoy the company of the fine people that had trekked out to the Land of A Thousand Corporate Parks to drink away an afternoon together, and drink we did. I distinctly recall, in one of my more lucid moments, being asked by the bartender if I was driving home, surely a sign of intoxication if ever there was one. Thank God that Senor Al No Puede Colgar took care of the transportation arrangements! It was one less thing to think about, and after all of the Southern, I already had plenty of things that I wasn't thinking about. There's definitely lots of blank space in there. Carter's photos helped bring back some of it, but most of it is probably lost to the mists of the Southern.

Al, Eva and Big Mike were truly the stars of it all. They are three examples of the amazing human beings that sometimes mask themselves as degenerate gamblers and alcoholics. I hope Big Mike had a banner night with his charity drive for cystic fibrosis. He was kind enough to arrange for all of the poker bloggers to drink for free (and if you know ANYthing about this crew, that's a helluva bar tab). One of my last moments of coherence found me at his fundraising table, where I donated all of my winnings from the poker game to his Michael's Miracle Network. It was the least I could do for somebody who gave all of us so much.

After that, the night consisted of flashes, bits and pieces reconstructed with help from photographic evidence. I'm sure I said some wildly offensive and inappropriate things. (Please fill me in on this score.) I do remember punching Derek in the ribs and doing back-to-back tequila shots with BadBlood and... somebody. (Good God, how does anybody drink that stuph? Even hammered, I could recall how vile it tasted. ) One person that somehow managed to avoid my wrath throughout most of the afternoon and night was Helixx. I can't recall seeing that guy for most of the night after the table broke, but photographs prove that he was there. Maybe next time.

We drank, we partied, and in the end we had a fantastic time with some awesome people. It didn't end when the bar closed at 2am, either. Earlier in the day, I told Carter that he could crash on the couch in the hotel suite that Dawn and I were sharing. At about 2:30am, we all piled into the suite, heavily intoxicated, and promptly passed out. I am told that, in the morning, Carter (a) woke up, (b) had no idea where he was, (c) knocked on the door to Dawn's room and asked to use the bathroom, and then (d) asked who was in the other bedroom (me).

Good times, good times. Here's to doing it again real soon.