The gang getting ready to chow down. (PS - Already at this early point in the night, Chef, who you can barely see peeking out behind Colin, was so wasted that he kept screaming at the restaurant and almost had us thrown out).
With Frank properly attired, we instructed the driver to make a few victory laps around Soho so we could shoot the shit and have a few drinks before our first destination: Blue Mountain BBQ on Spring St.
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