The room was spinning. Literally. I don’t know what kind of club we wound up in but the VIP suite that Carlos’s money must’ve afforded us was tucked back towards the corner of this place and was actually spinning. My head might’ve been spinning just a little bit too.

There were women, tall women, with platters covered in champagne flutes. I remember at one point there was Chick Fil A, and now I’m wondering how they were able to get Chick Fil A well after midnight? Anyway. I could hardly talk to anyone the first hour or so we were there. The music was so goddamned loud.

The game had been great, the Dolphins’ shooting guard, O’Brien, had broken his career point record. Hype levels were at an all time high. Carlos being his teammate thought celebration was in order. The celebration was awesome, or what I can remember of it. I think I had a lot of fun until that guy in the slick tan-orange suit sporting the most definitive looking Afro I’ve ever seen sat down at our table.