Closing time. The end of the evening on a Thursday night at Jungle. We took the party to Room 12 at Seastar Inn, a few friends and locals in keeping with about the same boy-girl ratio as the club itself.

Most of us are a bit dazed and confused, and it was a little past 3 a.m. when one of the guests realized she might have left her cell phone in the car of a friend who had dropped us off at the front gate (but instead of joining the party, he had headed to Scrub a Dub.)

So now I can't find my phone either and the others either don't have a phone or have run out of minutes -- classy group, by the way -- so now I play tour manager and say, "OK, we'll all posse up and head to Scrub a Dub and find this guy. No problem, man."

Plus, I thought my cell might be in there, too, though I could have sworn I brought it up. Also, I couldn't remember the number, so I couldn't call with my USA phone.

There are a bunch of us, and we head to the street and start walkin up the lane ... Not many cabbies around at 4 a.m. but sure enough, we find our way to Scrub to Dub.

Crazy scene at Scrub a Dub.

To be continued.