Not really an expensive "weekend" as such, but a business trip to Manhattan not long back for my colleague and I obviously included extensive dinners (on expenses) and copious quantities of wine/cocktails (some on expenses and some not, depending on venue, extent of tab, how much detail appeared on the receipt etc. you know... the usual).

On the evening in question many, many Martinis had been quaffed on top of a fine steak dinner & bottle of red, and things were proceeding along nicely. The world had taken on a nice warm rosy glow, and the urge to hurl abuse at strangers and pick fights was beginning to assert itself. In short, it was a perfectly agreeable evening upon the town. :o)

As the evening wore on, the desire for a change of venue brought barked instructions to a cabbie from my colleague along lines of "take us to see naked ladies... and none of your knickers-on pish neither, somewhere PROPER!" and within a few minutes we rocked up outside a matt-black-painted building entrance in a nondescript back street somewhere. Perfectly anonymous save the rather large number of rather large tuxedo-sporting bouncers of various ethnicities hanging around outside.

The "blazing" stage had still not quite been achieved at this point, and the cab ride had aided that particular situation somewhat, but things were definitely a little vague. Walking proved to be somewhat of a struggle, which meant careful concentration was needed upon entering the club (there seemed to be flights of stairs, hanging curtains & mirrors everywhere positioned for the sole purpose of confusing the drunkard and hindering progress around the venue). In short order however drinks were ordered, seats obtained, and ladyflesh was duly ogled to the edification of all concerned.

Creditcards were forked over for gusset-cash & further beers (the spirits threshold having already been breached by this point) and a good time was had by all, until, within less than an hour of our arrival, the DJ announced the final performances, bouncers from outside stepped inside, and punters were briskly shepherded towards the door. A quick check of the watch told the story. 3am.

Having opted to walk back to the hotel (balmy New York evenings are so pleasant, and we had time on our hands), a brief inventory revealed the somewhat grave extent of our monopoly-monetary situation. Due as we were to leave the country the next day we were presented with a bit of a quandary as regards asset disposal, when at precisely that moment a 'gentleman of the road' was known to us, having struck up a slurred conversation with my colleague from his doorway across the street. Needless to say of course we pooled our resources and weighed the dear old chap in for the full amount.

I have no idea if he was able to use the "notes" in tender for smack (or whatever his preferred tincture) or food, or anything useful whatsoever. Or indeed if he possessed the wherewithal to turn up at the club the next night suitably attired for some gusset-stuffing action of his own, but no matter.

At the purchasers exchange rate of 1:1USD, he found himself richer by over a grand on the transaction anyway.

Well, you don't check the opening hours (fnarr) when the blood's up do you!
(Roger_Irrelevant he's completely hatstand, Mon 17 May 2010, 14:38, Reply)