A rare public appearance, the noise, the game, food sticky with slicked cheese, the band played on, tinnitus screaming, Mexican lager tumbled down my throat, oozed down my arm, a man repeatedly shrieked in my ear, “As your lawyer, I advise you to …”

Should I have listened to counsel? No matter. Night banged its gavel. Morning pulled me away like a bailiff, brought no regrets, left me in a sludge of dehydrated waste. It took hours to wade through.