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Saturday night, I made a triumphant return to the Idle Hour following my debacle there last weekend.

The same bartender was working, and one of two things happened:

1) He didn't recognize me


2) He did notice me but let me stay anyway this time around.

Either way, it was a good move, because I rolled deep Saturday night.

Me and about a dozen friends (it was my birthday party) strolled into the place, automatically doubling the size of the crowd.

If the bartender jumped the bar at me again, we could have taken him.

(Elizabeth Malby/Sun Photographer)

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