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…Why Hello There…

November 20, 2007

I had one of those penultimate awkward moments on Friday night. Or maybe early Saturday morning.

After getting in from work, I blew some time here at MKV before finally getting my act together and heading off to a party that I’d been invited to off-campus. Chap I sit with in Econ was throwing a little something, and had invited me along. Very late, compared to when I said I’d show, I wandered over. After a fairly significant walk, I arrived at a nice little place on an innocent seeming street. Wandered inside, and the air was somewhat blue, and there were drunk & stoned people everywhere. It was kinda like going home. I grabbed the gent who’d invited me, had a few drinks, then started into meeting the various chaps & gals at the party. Sadly, most of the ladyfolk there took off just after I got there – their cab having arrived and all, sadly.

However, we got further down to the business of the night, drinking rum and smoking mediocre pot from “Walter” – also known as buckets, waterfalls, or a gravity bong. I’ve not used one in ages, and was … caught off guard. By the end of our session, I was pretty Done, and they were much further along.

Shortly after, as I was puzzling over how to get home, what song I’d drunkenly sing AT FULL VOLUME as I walked, and why there were so many shiny objects in the same room, some other UW students announced their imminent departure from the same party towards the University.

I gleefully joined them, this removing the conundrums of “how” and the singing from my list of decisions, as well as giving time & means of control to someone else. When the taxi they called, we all jubilantly piled in, announced our destination, and then there was a Moment. Grinning at me from the front seat, the driver of our vehicle … Ohno. He’s a Regular at Café KW, in a big way. Sits up by the machine, same thing every time, in every day. I like him. He tips well, is always polite, and generally good fun to chat with when it’s slow. I really want him to respect me.

…And there I am, jouncing into his taxi, totally out of my tree, smelling of rum and potsmoke.

Fan-freaking-tastic.

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2 Comments leave one →
  1. Tara permalink
    November 20, 2007 3:01 am

    *grins* I took my little brother to Rainbucket. Which, though a completely different situation and completely different story still has the “ohfuck, this is totally not a situation I want to be in” vibe.

    And finished it off by coming home and, with a house full of boyscouts, rolled two joints in my bedroom.

    Heh. Given your protectiveness of the boy, I suspect I was more allright being in his cab than you were camping with the kid.

    Good call. Boy Scouts like natural things. Though boo on joints. Pipes FTW.

  2. November 21, 2007 12:36 am

    Replied.

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