Amnesia is described by Webster's as "the loss of a large block of interrelated memories, or a complete partial loss of memories." This would describe how most of the staff at LifeStyle remembers the magazine's party at the Karma Bar, June 29. Supposedly, the party started at 9 p.m. and raged until about 5 (or was that 6?) a.m., but no one is really certain.

"I have no idea what happened," said reporter David Carter, who spent most of the evening hitting on a girl from the marketing department. "I remember waking up at Kofe Tun with $200 less than when I started the evening, and a serious headache," he added. "I don't even know how I got home. I think I took a taxi. God only knows how the driver could have known my address. It was way better than the eXile party."

The party was strangely planned, with the live music kicking in early and few patrons around to enjoy it. Pakava It opened the show at 10 p.m. The all-girl punk rock band Vosmaya Marta took over at about 11 p.m.

Unfortunately, the lyrics of the latter group seemed to offend most of the Russian members of the audience. During the song "Ya blyad," a good number of Russian patrons left the dance hall, while the non-Russian speakers hung around looking confused.

At about 11 p.m. DJ Stanley, who is now regularly spinning tunes at the Karma Bar on Fridays, took over, sparing the audience the torture of more punk rock music and the dance floor began to fill up. The punk rock was not forgotten, though. The theme of the night was punk and the Karma Bar staff was decked out in full punk-rock regalia. The chains, shiny leather jackets and crazy hairstyles gave you the feeling that you were in a Mad Max movie but, fortunately, things never became as violent as the Thunderdome.

The Russian staff of LifeStyle made it out onto the dance floor long before the Westerners, as usual. Russians tend to cut loose and live for the moment more freely. Westerners are held back by an overdeveloped sense of fear and shame and require a good deal of alcohol to drown their inhibitions.

The Karma Bar was generously offering two for one Bacardi specials all night. Perhaps a dangerous idea. LifeStyle editor James Beadle partook excessively and quickly lost track of the evenings events.

"After about the third Bacardi and coke, I don't know what happened," he said the following Monday. In fact, things got so out of hand that the scheduled lottery never even took place. "I've still got prizes in my pocket. I couldn't find the organizers anywhere. So the draw still hasn't taken place." It is still not known how the contest will be resolved.

Later into the evening, Beadle could do little more than hobble around the bar with his hands held limply in front him, a feeble impersonation of the Simpons' Mr. Burns. This did not, however, prevent him from "dancing."

Even this correspondent, not normally a dancer, was inspired by the copious amounts of alcohol and loud music and took to the dance floor.

Someday, the staff at LifeStyle may regret the permanent liver and brain damage they inflicted to themselves on Friday. Could they remember exactly what happened, they would probably shake their heads in shame and wonder. Fortunately, great quantities of alcohol wash away memories – as well as shame.