.01.

I arrived on Saturday. 11:00pm. 527 West 46th Street. Between 10^th and 11th. Apartment 11. Hell's Kitchen, Manhattan, New York, New York, United States of America.

I was greeted by the incomparable Adam Shatarsky (actor, friend, wanker, soon-to-be SAG member), his sister-in-law's friend, Shannon (19, hairdresser, model, Paris Hilton meets Jessica Simpson), and his roomie, Mark (actor and fellow circle in square).

We four decided to hit the town, stopping first at a local watering hole just down the street from the old apartment (aka, Fustercluck), and each consuming some lovely barley beverages.

Note: Fat Angel - odd name, great beer.

After having far too much of a good time, and with the evening progressing on as it is wont to do when such merriment is pursued, the roomie and the hairdresser decided to retire, as they both had early wake up calls in mind, an affliction with which, thankfully, Mr. Shatarsky and I were not stricken.

And so, we allowed the large, burly man to see himself home, and Adam and I escorted Miss Shannon back to her Hotel.

In all actuality, Adam was escorting the lady... and I was merely tagging along to be sure he didn't get himself into too much trouble, as he is terribly wont to do.

And so... we, the remaining duo, having successfully escorted the model back to her room where the very pregnant sister-in-law waited, began to make our way to the lovely Kevin St. James bar on 8th Avenue.

Perchance 'twas chance. Chances are it was. For as much as it seemed unknown and unpredictable, it also felt controlled by an exterior force. But whatever it was that caused us to gravitate to this particular location... and whatever it was that saw fit that we meet a certain two individuals... it cannot be denied that a chance was provided... and it was jumped at.