A beer

I went out at 7:30 p.m. Friday with a man ... for "a beer."

Which ended up being many beverages, of multiple malt levels, and a tour of the Fort Point Channel bar scene. We started at Lucky's on Congress Street, where I extended my love affair with Chimay Rouge and Kobe beef burgers. Then stepped across the street and down the stairs to Drink, for the ultra-trend crowd and some fresh lemon juice and tequila (but not a margarita) concoction. Then took a short walk along the water and there we were, under the big tent at The Barking Crab, drinking something I don't now remember out of keg cups. Then we couldn't not head back to the real Southie, to Tom English's Cottage, for a dive and a $2 Guinness before they (literally) kicked us out at 1 a.m.

To explain why this is all relevant, you should know that in 2 days I fly out for the purpose of attending the Cando (N.D.) quasquicentennial celebration and all-school reunion.

(Yes, I had to look quasquicentennial up, too.)

I'm not suggesting super model ... but I want to look reasonably together when I go to the swimming pool and the talent show and to the picnic with my classmates last seen in 2000 and, of course, to Gordy's Bar at any other waking hour to see everyone else.

So I made an (evidently nebulous) pact with myself last week about how I was going to catch up on sleep and cut back on alcohol consumption so I could be well-rested -- with a well-rested complexion, and a waistband un-artificially enhanced with carboyhydrates.

Guess not.

But hey! I did exercise my drinking-and-staying-up-until-all-hours chops, which will serve me well at the Friday and Saturday street dances where it is not uncommon -- if nothing else, for the practical purpose of not having to fight the crowds at Gordy's more than once -- to triple-fist cans of Miller Lite until the sun comes up.

Although the (excellent) Chimay and the (robust) Southie Guinness will not have sufficiently prepared my palate for same-said activity, perhaps. We shall see.