Fly on the Loose: Thursday
You know you've got a blogging problem, and that you're sucking your friends in, when one of them calls you to let you know that you can delete one of his comments if you'd like.
Thursday night I was off call, and I was still craving the fettucine alfredo that I missed out on Wednesday night. I called M@ to see if he was up for a College City evening. We met up at the Iron Horse, and before M@ even arrived, I had a pint of Guinness on the way. M@ ordered a burger, and this French-named berry beer that I'd tried once before during the Summer of 2003 when my date had ordered the same stuff. I got fettucine alfredo with mushrooms; for what it's worth, the mushrooms were a bad choice, but overall the chow was good.
M@ brought some Gaelic with him for me to look at; unfortunately, my Arabic is better than my Gaelic, which is to say that the closest I'd ever come to actually studying Gaelic was copying and pasting the Irish Gaelic versions of the Tain bo Cuailnge and Mac Datho's Pig while preparing an update of The Fly's Classical Archive. (More on that another time.) I wanted to consult with M@ about my upcoming expedition to the Old Country, which might not happen under the circumstances I'd originally planned for.
Eventually we finished after an impromptu conversation with one of M@'s crew coaches, who coincidentally showed up. M@ had a hankering for some gelatto, and we walked the half block or so to the local gelatteria. M@ got lemon sorbetto (water-based, not milk-based) and I got a waffle cone with... Something. Anyway, it was good. We continued discussing the England situation, and came upon the possibility of taking a joint trip over there around Christmas time. We also discussed the location of a couple of things in downtown College City, and set out to see them. Our course took us through the used book store, outside the independent theater, and into a little shopping center that includes College City's most prominent Starbucks location.
While attempting to show M@ a (now non-existent) shop that sells imported items from Egypt, we were led to question the girl who runs the nerdery next door: a shop specializing in games for middle school kids and long-haired fat men who suffer from a possibly terminal defficiency of female contact. The girl who runs the shop is, unfortunately, married; fortunately, she remembered me from the last time I'd tried unsuccessfully to peruse the Egyptian dealer's stuff. We spent a good fifteen minutes in there, but didn't buy anything. My guess is that she was probably glad to see some sign that life had not gone extinct in the preceding hours.
Finally, as we made our way back to my chariot, we stopped at the windows of a shop that was established by one of my high school English teachers once she retired, then sold to someone else. It's one of those places where you can go and paint your own pottery, then have it fired for you. As I was about to call for M@ to come and look at something, I realized that he'd already walked in the door. I attempted to follow him, only to find that the right hand door didn't swing in; I soon found out that there's a decal on the door handle that says this, but that I'd missed it. M@ and I stayed in this shop for about fiteen minutes, until right before closing time at 20:00. It turns out that the girl who was running the place solo that night, and who was actually pretty cute, is from Carthag, went to Carthag High, has her credentials in massage therapy, and is studying Art History at [Generic University]. I can only hope that I didn't make too much of an ass out of myself, but I know that if I did, half of it was M@'s fault.
As we got back to the chariot, I noticed that a girl who I'd gone to high school with, who's about my brother's age, and who's absolutely adorable, was standing at one of the restaurants with a couple of people, presumably one of her parents and a step-parent. We talked for a few minutes, and then M@ and I were off, and doing what single guys do best: discussing who I'd rather date, the girl from high school, or the art historian/massage therapist. I concluded that the art historian/massage therapist would be a better prospect for actual dating, but that the high school acquaintance might be a decent one night stand... If I was the type of guy who had one night stands. For the record, I'm not.
I drove M@ back to his place, as his bike was in the shop, and over water on his back deck in the friggin' boonies we discussed a possible joint expedition to the Old Country. Eventually, I left M@ to recover for the last day of the week, and returned to my waiting bed. A wild night? Not quite.
Consider it an investment in future hell-raising and girl-chasing.
Thursday night I was off call, and I was still craving the fettucine alfredo that I missed out on Wednesday night. I called M@ to see if he was up for a College City evening. We met up at the Iron Horse, and before M@ even arrived, I had a pint of Guinness on the way. M@ ordered a burger, and this French-named berry beer that I'd tried once before during the Summer of 2003 when my date had ordered the same stuff. I got fettucine alfredo with mushrooms; for what it's worth, the mushrooms were a bad choice, but overall the chow was good.
M@ brought some Gaelic with him for me to look at; unfortunately, my Arabic is better than my Gaelic, which is to say that the closest I'd ever come to actually studying Gaelic was copying and pasting the Irish Gaelic versions of the Tain bo Cuailnge and Mac Datho's Pig while preparing an update of The Fly's Classical Archive. (More on that another time.) I wanted to consult with M@ about my upcoming expedition to the Old Country, which might not happen under the circumstances I'd originally planned for.
Eventually we finished after an impromptu conversation with one of M@'s crew coaches, who coincidentally showed up. M@ had a hankering for some gelatto, and we walked the half block or so to the local gelatteria. M@ got lemon sorbetto (water-based, not milk-based) and I got a waffle cone with... Something. Anyway, it was good. We continued discussing the England situation, and came upon the possibility of taking a joint trip over there around Christmas time. We also discussed the location of a couple of things in downtown College City, and set out to see them. Our course took us through the used book store, outside the independent theater, and into a little shopping center that includes College City's most prominent Starbucks location.
While attempting to show M@ a (now non-existent) shop that sells imported items from Egypt, we were led to question the girl who runs the nerdery next door: a shop specializing in games for middle school kids and long-haired fat men who suffer from a possibly terminal defficiency of female contact. The girl who runs the shop is, unfortunately, married; fortunately, she remembered me from the last time I'd tried unsuccessfully to peruse the Egyptian dealer's stuff. We spent a good fifteen minutes in there, but didn't buy anything. My guess is that she was probably glad to see some sign that life had not gone extinct in the preceding hours.
Finally, as we made our way back to my chariot, we stopped at the windows of a shop that was established by one of my high school English teachers once she retired, then sold to someone else. It's one of those places where you can go and paint your own pottery, then have it fired for you. As I was about to call for M@ to come and look at something, I realized that he'd already walked in the door. I attempted to follow him, only to find that the right hand door didn't swing in; I soon found out that there's a decal on the door handle that says this, but that I'd missed it. M@ and I stayed in this shop for about fiteen minutes, until right before closing time at 20:00. It turns out that the girl who was running the place solo that night, and who was actually pretty cute, is from Carthag, went to Carthag High, has her credentials in massage therapy, and is studying Art History at [Generic University]. I can only hope that I didn't make too much of an ass out of myself, but I know that if I did, half of it was M@'s fault.
As we got back to the chariot, I noticed that a girl who I'd gone to high school with, who's about my brother's age, and who's absolutely adorable, was standing at one of the restaurants with a couple of people, presumably one of her parents and a step-parent. We talked for a few minutes, and then M@ and I were off, and doing what single guys do best: discussing who I'd rather date, the girl from high school, or the art historian/massage therapist. I concluded that the art historian/massage therapist would be a better prospect for actual dating, but that the high school acquaintance might be a decent one night stand... If I was the type of guy who had one night stands. For the record, I'm not.
I drove M@ back to his place, as his bike was in the shop, and over water on his back deck in the friggin' boonies we discussed a possible joint expedition to the Old Country. Eventually, I left M@ to recover for the last day of the week, and returned to my waiting bed. A wild night? Not quite.
Consider it an investment in future hell-raising and girl-chasing.
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