K-E-G

"I made out with my best friend," admitted Liz. She added that the friend was, in fact, a woman. "I didn't think that would happen, but she was totally down that night."

"At Harpo's, someone spilled beer from the top balcony on me," Scot said.

"I always leave before the crazy shit happens," Lee complained. Then he remembered something: "I watched an ex-girlfriend strip in a bar."

"That happened to me in Mexico, only the whole bar was naked," Liz said.

Skin to win, indeed.

By this point, we were ready to go, so we went to close out our tab. As we waited to pay, Boston's "More Than a Feeling" came on, which somehow inspired everyone to groove. A guy in a blue track jacket with carefully gelled hair and another duder in a red sweater did some sort of leg jig for each other, laughed, then high-fived. The effect was somewhat homoerotic. By the door, a guy in a camouflage top groped the ass of a blonde. A mustachioed guy standing next to us offered his analysis. "They never learn," he said. "They come here and get fucked up, then go to Westport and get fucked up."

Which brings us to our other epiphany of the night: We were all winners here.