[ WP ] You wake up in a bar with no memory how you got there . Last thing you remember is going into work . 2 days ago . You have no . Cellphone/wallet/memory of your identity , no one else remembers who you are also .

“ Hey. ” I faintly hear a voice. My head hurts. 
 
 “ HEY, eyes open bud. ” Now louder. A finger pokes my shoulder. I open my eyes and see I ’ m at a bar. The bartender in front of me says, “ If you can ’ t stay awake, I ’ ll call you a cab to get you home.'' 
 
 My head is pounding. Am I drunk? No. Maybe hungover. I don ’ t even remember coming in a bar. Which bar is this? 
 
 “ I ’ m ok, let me just close out. ” I rub my face and say to the bartender as I pick up my half-glass of red wine and tip it his way. Wine? Since when did I drink wine at a bar. I ’ m a beer man. 
 
 The bartender laughs slightly and replies “ As much as I ’ d like to take more of your money, Nancy got your tab an hour ago. My guess is she also got your wallet. ” 
 
 “ Who ’ s Nancy? ” I ask the bartender. Who ’ s Nancy? Do I know a Nancy. 
 
 “ Ha, sorry man. She probably does this to two guys a week. ” The bartender tries to hide his smile by turning around and washing some glasses. 
 
 I reach for my wallet in my back pocket and find it ’ s gone. No wallet. I go for my front left pocket. No keys. My jacket with my phone? Nowhere around me. My backpack with my laptop? 
 
 Trying not to panic, I look back at the bartender. “ Sorry to bug you, but have you seen my backpack or my jacket? ” 
 
 The bartender laughed. “ Looks like Nancy got you good. So, you want me to call you a cab or the MPs? ” 
 
 “ I… uh… MPs? ” 
 
 “ Military police. I mean, they come around every night when we close up. I ’ ll report Nancy again, but they ’ ve got bigger priorities with the recent resistance bombings and all. ” 
 
 I have no idea what he ’ s talking about. 
 
 “ Nevermind, I ’ ll just head out on my own. ” I get up to leave. 
 
 “ You ’ re not driving are you? ” The bartender starts to step around the bar towards the door. `` You ’ ve had too much to drink, it ’ s icy out there, and Nancy probably swiped your keys anyway. ” 
 
 I almost laughed, “ That ’ s right, my keys. ” and then realize and say “ Icy? ” 
 
 `` What do you expect out of Milwaukee in February? ” 
 
 “ Milwaukee? February?'' 
 
 I stop and sit back down. What do I remember? I remember going to my office at CNN in Atlanta on Tuesday, 31 January. I responded to some email about a wonkish healthcare policy issue being reported on in Congress. Then what? I was supposed to meet with Congresswoman Wellington at noon. Did I make it there? 
 
 The bartender breaks me out of my thoughts, “ You ok? I can call you a cab.'' 
 
 “ What day is today? ” 
 
 The bartender keeps his smile, but his worry is starting to show. “ Wow, she got you good.'' with a nervous chuckle. `` It ’ s Groundhog Day man! February 2! ” 
 
 I ’ m trying to sort through my thoughts. Nothing about this makes sense. Maybe I am drunk. Or dreaming. No, definitely not dreaming. The bar is dark. I ’ m the only person in here. 
 
 “ Did you say something about military police and bombings? ” The bartender ’ s smile is gone as I ask him. 
 
 “ Right, they ’ re deployed around the country since the terrorist attack a few weeks ago at the inauguration. Don ’ t you remember? ” 
 
 “ I work for CNN. I think I ’ d remember something like that. ” 
 
 With that, the bartender ’ s face turns white. “ Just take a seat man. I ’ ve got a gun behind the bar and I ’ ll use it if you try to move.'' He reaches for a phone connected to the wall ( rotary dial? ) and dials 9…. 
 
 I use the moment to leap from my chair to get to the door. I push through - good thing it wasn ’ t pull - and rush into the street. It ’ s dark. The streetlights are off. And I hear sirens in the distance. 
 
 I pick a direction and run.
