HSHOWPWP

This week I logged in 10 Hours Spent Hanging Out With Paul WITH Phil.

You read that right.

Like Zephyrus, Phil breezed into NY for the weekend, gently mussed every one's hair and then blew away again.* There were stories. There were laughs. There were drinks. There were chunks of time that I cannot remember.** All in all, it was lovely. Or so I've been told.

Can anyone explain how I got these bruises?

*Alternate metaphor: "Like some arrow loosed by Hermes himself, Phil fleeted from Greece across the Atlantic and lodged himself smack dab in the throat of Manhattan, which subsequently drowned in its own blood."
**Show me photographic PROOF of this supposed "busboy incident."