Man. The Hong Kong. Site of plenty of late nights, some relatively sane (like the night we went there at 1:00 am when I was an undergrad, after riding a bus up from Charlottesville, and I almost lost a contact on the floor). Some not (like the night after my final exam first semester of grad school, when the acidic fruit in the world famous Scorpion Bowls made me feel like my ulcer was recurring, and I had to leave the party to buy Tums—a harbinger of more troubles later that evening).
Somehow, I can’t see myself dragging Lisa over to that party, even if it means missing out on a chance to share scorpion bowls with the blogerati.