Flagstaff... not yet beyond

So here I am. In a hostel on route 66 in Flagstaff to be exact. We drove up here today with the quickness. Once in town, we check in, and then proceed to the nearest bar. Beer, Jack and Coke, sandwiches, and done. We gather supplies. Alcohol for tonight. Powerbars for the next two days in the Grand Canyon. We drink the beer, play pool in the commons of the hostel. Greg and I hit the street to head to the Joint. It seems to be the local dive bar, so we go. Not only is it the local dive bar, it's the only titty bar in Flagstaff, with a live music venue. We drink more. I drink heavily. We befriend the bartenders. Drink more. The live act comes on, and fuck, those little bastards were enthusiastic. The lead singer does a backflip off the stage while the band commits to other stage tricks. Greg decides it's time to go. At eleven o'clock. He's right though. We are embarking on a very difficult hike into the Grand Canyon tomorrow, and we should get our rest; we should not sod off and drink more. It's just plain irresponsible, especially since I did not sleep last night. So we are back at the hostel now. Greg is reading in bed; close to sleep. And it's obvious what I'm doing now. We also discover when we return that we have two new British roomates in our room. Well, about twenty minute before we left the bar I got my second wind, I was ready to sleep, but that's over now. The two Brits are in the next room playing pool now, I think I'm going to try and bring them to the bar so I have someone to get shitfaced with. I should sleep though, the hike we're about to go on is something avid hikers train for. Well, fuck that, I'm going in with two days of no sleep, and a hangover, let's see how that goes...