Peer Pressure, or Beer Pressure?

Clever title right.

So this Friday, Bourbon Samurai returned from D.C. in order to see the show.
(Footnote, Bourbon had been directing the show I was producing, a comedy our friend Groucho had written, but was offered an acting gig at a major theater in D.C. so someone else had to fill in.)
Now Bourbon was in town for around 12 hours before returning home, so obviously he wanted to spend half of them wasted. Now, he was wiped, and I was getting sick, so the plan was to head to Grassroots Tavern and have a couple of pitchers before turning in. I can hear some of you laughing over the wireless.
Every time we tried to call it a night, someone new would show up. First it was my buddy Banker, who brought a friend of mine from High school who lives in Dubai, so we had to have a drink with them. The Hubris showed up (one of Hubris's superpowers is to show up or call just when everyone wants to go home. The waiter's life). Finally Uber260 made a 2 am appearance. At this point, Bourbon, Uber260, Hubris, and myself are the last men standing, and decide to finish the evening at the Continental.
Now the only reason people go to the Continental is to get 5 shots for 10 bucks. So thats what we did. 2 or 3 times. Again, right before we were about to go, Fate stuck its pint glass out for another toast. We saw a waitress wandering around the bar with a tray of 5 Amstel lights and 10 shots. We asked her what was wrong. Apparently, someone ordered the drinks then ran out. Now I am sympathetic to the men and women in the service industry, and and have excepted this evening has gone south a good hour and a half ago, offer to take the tray off her hands. Now, about another shot in, I realize I can shoot no more, and every time Hubris threw another shot at me, I would pour the shot onto the tray in defiance. Bourbon, not one to waste, would tip the trap and let the liquid pour back into the shot glass (with shocking grace) and do the shot himself. This happened about three times, if memory serves.
Now, the only way to top off this evening was with a monument to our foolishness. Hubris began constructing a 'shot-amid' with the empty shot glass. While I believe only one broke in construction, the final product was quite impressive. The management was, not surprisingly, unhappy with this construct, but this being the Continental, waited until we all had taken pictures of the creation before demanding its demolition. Last call come and gone, we returned home. Bourbon woke up to his 10:30 bus back to D.C., I woke up to prepare for my matinee. Smart men, no, but men of principal, well no. But entertaining men, hell ya.