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John held his head; it was spinning. He knew he had a few too many, and he was acting foolishly. He just wanted to go home, but he he had no idea where home was for this body. But, wait, there was an ID in her phone. Her address must be on there. He then tried searching his pockets but quickly learned this outfit didn’t have any. That must mean he left his phone somewhere around here. Where did he put it? On a table? At the bar? If things weren’t bad before, they were certainly worse now. That phone and the things in were the only clues he had about who he was now.
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