Ask them about how to prevent a hangover!

After we drop off the car, we catch a bus to the T station and take the T to Davis Square, where Betsy and Max are meeting some friends from Oberlin at the bar under Redbones BBQ. We get there almost an hour early, but it's not enough time to go home, so we check it out.
It is... extremely crowded. As they apparently serve good food, and its' still arguably dinner time. So after a quick conference, we decide to hit another bar we used to hang in, known for being a bit of a dive, not terribly popular or expensive and hence, unlikely to be crowded. Sligo Pub, ladies and gentlemen. Cash only. They never check IDs. And I don't think I've ever gone there without being hit on.

Sligo has one major advantage, besides cheap beer: the Sox game is on TV. So we grab a table and some beers, and watch. I explain it all to Matt, who is a baseball virgin. We drink up. Good fun.

When the time is right, we head back to Redbones, where we locate the friend in question and order some very tasty margaritas. We manage to stake out some standing room, and chat away. Did I mention that the margaritas are tasty? They're tasy.

Nearly an hour goes by, along with another margarita, when I decide that I'm feeling baseball deprived, so I leave my drink with Betsy and run back across the street to Sligo to check the score. I watch a few minutes, confirm that we're ahead, get hit on, and leave. I report back to the Redbones crew on the status of the game; it's the 7th inning, so I'm gonna have to go back again soon to check in, but it's kind of fun to be hanging out in two bars at the same time. Time to polish off that margarita. Matt discovers that he is a BIG fan of the margarita. Which we agree is a rare fruity drink that isn't girly, because they will knock you on your ass.

When I go back to Sligo for the end of the game, I actually get a beer this time. I'm all about the $2 PBRs, especially if I've already got a few in me. And the Sox win!!! I report to the fam in Philly, then we run back to Redbones and high-five the crowd. Go Sox! (As of this writing, that was the last game the Sox won. Which is pretty tragic.)

One awesome tequila later, we realize that it's getting late-ish, and since we're married to the T to get home, we head out.

I'll spare everyone the details, but suffice to say that by the time we exited the T station, Matt was stumbling, Betsy and their friend Elana were.... no longer digesting the things they had consumed, and Max and I were doing our best to drag/guide/carry them home.

And the bastards woke up all bright and cheery in the morning. All of them.

Note: I sure am glad that all my airline trouble was as minor as it was. Because what's a few hours in a bar compared to not being able to bring a bottle of water and some toothpaste on the plane?