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It was a birthday party for Bernie and we were having it at the Landing Strip Lounge. There were maybe fifteen of us crowded around four tables in the back and away from the dance floor. The party had started at eight and was rolling right along. I was more of an observer than a participant because I'm a non-drinker; everybody else was on alcohol and you could see them all loosening up as the evening progressed. Bernie was getting shit-faced because everybody was buying him drinks including a lot of people who knew him, but who were not actually at the table with us. Bernie's wife Maggie was putting away her fair share, but on her it looked good. Maggie got real loose when she drank and it showed up when she was on the dance floor. Maggie made "Dirty Dancing" look tame. If you went out on the floor with Maggie it was a given that you would return to the table with a lump in your trousers. It happened to me several times that night and I got nasty looks each time from my wife Stella. Stella was putting away a little more than her fair share and producing a fair amount of hard dicks herself when she hit the floor. I guess she figured it was all right for her because she was drinking, but not okay for me because I wasn't.

By last call there were only two of us in any shape to drive; several thought they were and we tried to convince them otherwise and failed, among them Bernie and Maggie. But I can't save the whole world so that night I opted to save Bernie and his wife. Several people wanted to party on and Stella suggested that we take the party to our house. ...

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