ADAM: First, I'd like to thank you, Nicky, for not getting nearly as drunk as me for our journey to Keys on Main. I was pre-gaming pretty hard, but thankfully my memory doesn't cut off until right around when we left. All of the rest of the things that I've forgotten have been helpfully filled in by you. So, we headed down to Keys on Main, which made me nostalgic for the late Chopstix. This dueling piano bar was fucking bonkers. It looked like fucking Thunderdome. Tables filled out the area in front of the stage, and a second level loomed above it, with shitfaced revelers leaning over the railing to holler at the piano players. We instantly beelined for the bar, where we once again fell prey to a $9 vodka Red Bull. Still the vibe was pretty hyped. How were you feeling on the night?

NICKY: Not as good as you were, it seems. Before hitting the club, I had a couple Irish coffees at The Mix, trying to get my energy up. Mistake! I got to Keys on Main with an upset stomach, and you were already inching your way toward a blackout. I had also made a vow to never get tricked by these outrageous Red Bull mark-ups, so that part of the night was all on you. I did see you talking to a girl at the bar, though, which is already a marked improvement from our previous outings.

ADAM: As luck would have it, I won some money at the casino the night before, so I was determined to big-time it and waste all of that at Keys on Main. I was getting ready to order my second drink when a girl sidled up to the bar next to me: Bridgett the Birthday Girl. Working purely on drunk instinct, I immediately pivoted and offered her a drink. I've never felt simultaneously like such a big loser and a rad dude in my entire life. We got shots of vodka and she asked me how old I thought she was - a notorious trap. Luckily, I low-balled it. Later on, I tried to find her again to interview her for this column, but she was gone.

NICKY: It's even worse than not finding her, Adam. Talking about this later, it turns out you don't remember what you actually did. You got two more shots of vodka, turned to look for her and, seeing that she was leaving, you just did both of the shots. It was terrifying to witness. Meanwhile, I was getting annoyed at getting the nerve to go up to a girl mere moments before her boyfriend would come up and throw his arm around her. It didn't help that I was almost completely sober. Right around this time is when you ran in from your smoke break and said you were too drunk and that we had to go. But we were doing so well! Also, we didn't get a picture of us with a lovely lady.

ADAM: Sorry, Nicky. I know you were just getting warmed up. I went outside to try and find Bridgett the Birthday Girl, but she was being spirited away by her friends. Instead, I ran into a guy who's DJ'd at clubs like this one for years. We got to talking, I told him about this column, and I asked him the best way to pick up girls at the club. He said, and I quote, "Be rich. Just have a ton of fucking money." There you have it, Nicky! We've been doing this thing all wrong! Still, I feel like we're making progress. There's not too many of these before the summer's over, but I'm more confident than ever that we'll get lucky.