7:30 PM: Ride the tube.
8:30 PM: Meet at Hoxton Hotel, better known as the “urban lodge”. Mind slightly blown by this distinction.
8:45 PM: Open a bottle of Pinot Grigio that we purchase in the lodge’s lobby. Chris gives the mansterpiece Monsieur Simon a hair cut. Days before Simon has attempted to trim his hair himself and it looks CRAZY. The haircut takes about five minutes and it is smart and tasteful. A wave of relief rushes over all three of us. We may now go out into the London night.
9:00 PM: Arrive at Cargo to see a band. The bouncer’s haircut puzzles us, a sort of Euro mullet. Chris finds it hard not to reach for his shears and help this guy out. We decide to go to dinner instead.
9:30 PM: Bread and Wine. They greet us with a complimentary glass of champagne. Chris momentarily feels like the Don. Simon orders a soup and two other appetizers and then vanishes. He never returns for dessert. We eat his food along with the three other dishes we have ordered. The freshest wintergreens with the perfect amount of EVOO, lemon, and a hint of mint. Chris insists he can taste the dirt and this pleases him. An artichoke soup that is too creamy for words. The word “sinful” gets tossed around. The crab meat on toast is stupendous. Our main dish is a “Gatekeeper’s Pie” for two featuring venison and mash. It is the size of a basketball. We eat all of it over the period of an hour. I think to myself, “I bet this is the best restaurant in London”. And they give us free Blood Orange sorbet to cleanse our palettes.
12:00 AM: They are closing and we are the only two left in the restaurant so we finish our espressos and go outside. We go into the first bar we see called the Old Blue Last, which I am told is the London equivalent of Lit. We make the most of it.
12:30-3:30 AM: Fuzzy.
3:30 AM: We pay 5 pounds each to go into a club that is next to our urban lodge called East Village, which I’m told is the London equivalent to shooting yourself in the face. We make the most of it. Start our own dance party, and the four or five girls in there slowly congregate around us. Or at least that’s how I remember it. Meanwhile, fifty guys are looking at us like we are “tossers”.
4:30 AM: Ears ringing. Chris buys more wine from lobby. We talk about how fresh the greens were at Bread and Wine, and how stellar our dance moves were. Say goodbye and hug.

That’s how dudes night out.