My wallet is soaked with rum, my sunglasses are lost in the parking lot having never made it to the front gate and where my backpack wound up, I haven't a clue.

But my head doesn't hurt, my feet don't stink and I still love Jesus.

So if that's all the damage I did to myself and my belongings after successive weekends at Bay to Breakers in San Francisco and two Jimmy Buffett concerts in Los Angeles, then I deserve a toast.

In fact, my permanent reminder of those temporary feelings is one of euphoria. These are two great events, and experiencing them within a span of less than a week was a natural (and otherwise) high.

I'm a true Parrothead, I must confess, a man whose Caribbean soul is stirred by the sound of a Jimmy Buffett song. That's why I went to both of Buffett's shows, which were sandwiched around Memorial Day weekend. I've been to something like 30 in my life. My B2B number is three (and counting).

The centerpiece of both is a social feeding frenzy. There aren't many occasions during a year when drinking before noon is mentally acceptable, but here were two pressed right up against each other.

At B2B, it's a bit ridiculous how early this begins. Let's just say it's a frightening few short hours after the previous night's conclusion. At Buffett, we were able to hold off until just before noon when the bus PubClub chartered arrived to pick up our group of 55. Of course, we all met at a bar.

Frankly, it's amazing how similar the two events are to one another. About the only difference is that while Breakers is a mobile party, Buffett is pretty much stationary.

Each attracts thousands, and while the B2B crowd is five times that of a Buffett performance and would overwhelm an amphitheater, it's also conducted in a much more wide open space and thusly feels like it's about the same size.

Both are open-air affairs, where strolling with a drink and walking up to strangers to share a toast is the reason for being there. Bay to Breakers takes place through the streets of San Francisco while Buffett shows are in the parking lots of concert venues (in our case, Irvine Meadows). I could not begin to estimate the average number of beverages consumed by each person at either. Let me just say that Breakers lasts about four hours while Buffett goes on well into the night. During this time, there is never a moment when the drinking hand is empty.

Meeting the owner of the tiki bar was a Breakers breakthrough.

Well, for some, Breakers only lasts a few hours. For us, it is "only" the beginning. It's our tradition to continue the day at Pier 23, a waterside bar that is pretty active on any given Sunday. Few people from the event actually make it there, too exhausted and partied out to continue. But our group finds it difficult to suddenly shut down the system without a final release and a few other diehards obviously agree. Those of us that go there are as spiced as a bottle of Captain Morgan's, and it doesn't take long for Breakers survivors to take over the bar.

Breakers was the weekend I was introduced to a drink called the Irish Car Bomb. It's Irish whiskey dropped into a pint of Guinness and is to be consumed as a shot. I should have seen this coming; earlier in the week I received an e-mail from a reader asking me if I knew of such a concoction. I thought he was nuts.

So of course I wound up at a party on Friday where car bombs were going off like fireworks. We were at our friend Rick's house in Santa Cruz, and his roommate was hosting a party for his Ultimate Frisbee team. This is a coed sport that requires some measure of athleticism and, apparently, a heck of a lot of teamwork. Rick, my other friend Chris Cox (who had traveled with me from L.A.), "Breakers" Bob and myself were tolerated though not really accepted by this very cliquish group.

Things got intriguing when the girls started sharing body shots with one another in all manner of places and guys starting pairing off with gals other than whom they had arrived. It was a free-love kind of experience (although stopping short of actual sex), all conducted in front of our very eyes without the slightest acknowledgment of our presence.

An interesting way to start the weekend, to be sure.

The next day, we somehow managed to drag Rick out of his favorite local watering spot – Margaritaville in nearby Capitola Beach – after a couple of killer "super" margaritas. Living in a scenic but remote area of Northern California, Rick doesn't get many visitors, so when people do come by, he's like a puppy dog who brings out all of his toys so you will want to stay and play. But we had to get to the City in order to meet up with another friend who was giving us couches for the night. Breakers breaks ground on Sundays.

It was exactly a week later that we were in the "real" Margaritaville, the parking lot party prior to the first Buffett show.

If you are looking for a personal highlight from all this revelry, it's as easy to find as a margarita: having front-row seats for Buffett. It meant so much to me that, despite the numerous libation temptations available throughout the day, I maintained enough wits about me to really appreciate the experience.

Getting the phins up again for another Buffett show two days later required a bit of motivation, but Jimmy only comes once a year and the inspiration was provided simply by turning on the CD. My group was much smaller the second time around and the seats were nowhere near as good as the first show, but the day was no less fun

Now, I think I'll take a nap.

The Bartender can be reached at bartender@pubclub.com