I was all ready to go at 11:00 or so, and we'd paid our bill and were on our way out the door by half past. That's when Mike and Betty showed, and said they had guests in town they'd like us to meet. So we went to meet them, and they were very nice people indeed, and when Mike and Betty offered to buy us a drink we said OK.

I didn't want to, really, but Elvis was in no way ready to go home. He's been working insanity hours lately, and had to get up for work today with the possiblility that maybe, just maybe, he won't have to work on Saturday. Maybe not even Sunday, although the chances of that are even more remote, apparently. So I thought a good night's sleep was in order, so that Elvis could get up and in to work earlier, and maybe even home earlier, so we could have a good night out today.

Plus, you know, I was really, really tired.

Not as tired as Betty's friend, mind you, who was about to fall asleep on her stool. I'm thinking the brandy and port Betty ordered for her was not a good idea.

Brandy and port, by the way, is not a combination I've ever had before, or even heard of. It doesn't taste as bad as I feared. It's not bad at all, really, especially if the port involved is nothing special. My advice to you, however, if you are ever handed such a drink, is do not stick your nose in the snifter and take a great big sniff before tasting. That thing's got fumes that would put an oil tanker to shame.

So we stayed at the pub until way too late, and of course we had to stop by the Late Night Bar of Evil as well, to see if Mr. and Mrs. Evil had left on their holidays yet.

They had, unfortunately, leaving Mr. and Mrs. Not- Quite- Evil in charge. Once again, there was hardly anyone in there, since it was not yet 2:00 and nobody really goes into the LNBOE on a Thursday anyway. Some bar staff, I think, might show up later on. Generally, we try to avoid it ourselves, because three nights in a row at the LNBOE is just too much.

When we went in last night, and the Evils were not in residence, our first inclination was to leave. But the Not- Quite- Evils had already seen us (not a major accomplishment-- the place was all but deserted), and they will be running the place for the next month or so, so I ordered a small beer. We both had to go to the toilet, anyway, so might as well, I suppose. That was my reasoning, in any case.

Creepy Guy was there. He's middle-aged, maybe late-middle, and has this distinctly British, upper-class twit look to him. And he's always insistent on lighting my cigarette in a way that goes beyond mere politieness. Last night he lunged across Elvis in his effort to do so, and I thought he might just tip off his barstool. Elvis and I were talking about him on our walk home. He seems nice enough, but he kind of gives us the creeps in a way we can't quite put our finger on. Something's not quite right there. Someday I suppose he'll be arrested for running a pedophilia ring, or they'll find a balanced diet of human body parts neatly labeled in his freezer. We'll be interviewed for the paper, and people will read it and say "Yeah, right. I bet you did."

I like Mrs. NQE. I've met her before, but never really MET her, so it was nice to talk to her a bit. She and Mr. NQE plan to open their own bar this fall. Apparently, they've been looking for a place for years. The one they're buying is in the Bairro Alto, on a very busy street, so hopefully it will do well for them, and them for it. Before that can happen, I'm afraid, Mr. NQE will have to do something about his DJing abilities.

He was in charge of the music last night, which was unfortunate. He has a penchant for playing half a song, then yanking it off because he's found something that might be better. To make matters worse, usually it's not. Then, there are songs that Mr. Evil plays-- that should be played-- at the end of the evening. I'd give you an example or two, but he plays them at the END of the night, so the titles are all a bit fuzzy, which isn't terribly surprising. They're like porn: I know them when I hear them. What they are are Closing Songs--they talk about watching the sunrise, and

going home after a long day, or they're kind of mellow and everybody knows the words. The Eagles do a lot of good closing songs. Alternatively, there are songs that become closing songs because a particular bar always plays them before they close, like a signal. In Madison, a bar we hung out at used to play Emperor of the Highway (which I haven't heard in ages. What a shame.) Several bars in Dallas and at least one in Wisconsin played You Never Even Called Me By My Name (I jus' looove that one). New York, New York is a popular closer, too, at too many bars to mention. (The Sinatra version. Natch.)

Mr. Evil doesn't restrict himself to just one: he has a sort of Closing Playlist. Mr. NQE plays them at the beginning of the night, before the place is even crowded enough that everyone will sing along. But he plays them early anyway (Mr. Evil always plays this one, so I will too!), and it makes us feel like heading home.