It is now 2011 and I should note that this law was written in 2005. Although in 2010 I would be on the "Boozehounds" softball team, this was in no way related to that outfit. Pure coincidence.
It was the summer after I graduated college. I was fresh back from my trip to Europe; and needless to say, I had no job, no glimmer of a job, and thus no hope of money. It's funny how even when you're in the doghouse though, you can always find a way to throw yourself a bone.
I hitchhiked a ride to the city via NJ Transit with only lint in my pocket and my accommodations to stay at Casa de Casey (aka Casey's dorm room). A friend at the time, Benny had his parents visiting from out of town, and we thought to take them to a prominent and fitting establishment of the time... Ryan's. (Note: Ryan is not our friend... it was our local, located in an alleyway bar.) Imagine Cheers meets home in an alley. The evening was full of great conversation, drinks, laughter, and drinks. Not too much drinking - just enough for an evening when you know that you don't have to drive... so I guess void out the last comment. Slowly, groups of people began leaving. The parents are usually the first to go, then the amateurs, followed by the team players, and eventually the "boozehounds." (While not necessarily proud of this classification, this is the group that included yours truly, for I could more often than not "hold my own.")
"Hello, Operator," the woman on the line greeted.
"Hi. I need the number to the Marriot Hotel on West Street, please," I requested.
Moral of the story: If you are going to be a boozeHOUND, make sure you know at whose doghouse you're staying.