So a guy from Vermont stumbles into a bar...

Sigh.

Here's the sitch - dinner and drinks ends well; post-dinner drinking ensues. Three Sam Adams and one SoCo & lime shot too-many-later and you're conversing with strangers at the bar. Thing is, they want nothing to do with you.

In what what was otherwise supposed to be an evening of much needed calmness, I found myself walking with escorting a belligerent drunk around the Upper East Side. We stumbled for 12 blocks, which is about the same amount of degrees that separated our lives before crossing paths tonight. I meant well. I think.

I learned a lot about Buckshot tonight. More than I'd ever care to know about Burlington's town drunk.


The point is, these lights adorned the 71st Street. Beyond the coffee that Buckshot bought me from the corner bodega, these were the highlight of the night. Yep.

Sigh.