The night before was long and dominated by the presence of an open bar at a wedding, followed by an after party at a bar with a 20 dollar card minimum. The day after is penance. I was not really planning on lunch when my friends were heading out. They needed a tie break on fried chicken or Chinese. There’s only one choice there for the hungover gentleman. Nearby is a Bobwhite kiosk at an NYU food court. I opt for a fried chicken burger with fries, BBQ dip, and honey mustard sauce (plus, I admit, a chocolate milkshake from a nearby waffle joint - I make no apologies). I admire the simplicity of the burger - a good dollop of mayo, some pickles, a quite large piece of chicken, and the bun. The chicken could be a little, just a touch, less crisp, more tender, to better suit the burger experience versus the direct finger licking good alternative, but who am I to argue. The crinkle cut fries handle the various dips we ordered well. The world feels more stable, I feel more able to conquer the day of roaming New York ahead of me, once I’ve downed half a litre of water. Thank god for the pre-emptive paracetamol the night before though.