The little old man was on his seventh bottle of beer, and I was only on my third and feeling the effects on my body - the clouded vision, the rocking gait, the growing difficulty of sitting upright on my stool. As the little old man pushed away his empty stein, the bartender seemed happy to refill it. But he waved her off.
"That's enough for today," he said. "Tomorrow, you'll see me again."