Well, I went in to Chinatown to see what was open at 1AM. Peach Farm Restaurant had it, and though the waitstaff were brusque, I figured I'd eat there.
The chow fun was on the oily side, but it was passable, and $7.25 including tax is an entirely reasonable price around here. However, I was eager to get out of there because of the guests at the next table.
It was a party of four: two clean-cut white boys, two thin Asian girls, all drunk, all twenty-something. One of the Asian girls was so drunk she was weaving to the table when she walked up, and occasionally leaning against the mirrored wall as she sat. Their conversation was loud, profane, and vapid. The first conversation I heard was the two girls--both dressed in black--screeching at one of the guys in disbelief that he could possibly fail to own a black shirt. This went on for most of my meal, although they did progress to harassing him about not owning a black suit, and how if he were to accompany one of them to her company formal she'd want him to arrive wearing a black suit. Then some incoherent argument followed about the meaning of the term "semi-formal", and how it applied to company events.
It was difficult to avoid hearing their argument, even in a fairly noisy basement restaurant, because they were the loudest table in the place.
When I came back to the table to leave a tip after settling my bill, I saw the drunker of the two girls lifting a teetering plate to the mouth of one of the boys to shove noodles with her fingers into his mouth. He was somewhat feebly resisting, while the other girl whined about how she had never seen anything so disgusting. "I think I'm going to puke," she said.
I fled before I got to see that.
But at least I got my chow fun. And a show to go with it.