Yesterday was, according to these prerequisites, a good day. Nearly every minute was accounted for, and I loved it. HM and I went to her co-worker’s birthday party out at a bowling alley in Fairfax at two. While I am the worst bowler on the face of the planet, I do not have the utter disdain for the activity (do note that I did not say “sport”) that I did in years past; when I was dragged bowling in High School, I would tease my hair, load on the purple eyeshadow, wear acid wash jeans and Dale’s Nelson concert T-shirt in protest. I actually look forward to bowling lately. We arrived halfway into the first game. When HM and I went to go get our rental shoes, we exchanged a few cracks with the attendant, she told him her size and then he walked off, returning with two pairs of shoes. I looked at the ones he put in front of me, hoping he did not bring me the same size as Helen, looked back at him and he said, “if they don’t fit, you can exchange them.” They fit perfectly. The man knows his job. I wish I were more familiar with the protocol for tipping bowling-shoe-rental-guys.
Cake was served, I bowled a career high of 58, and the party began to wrap up. We left, heading to Andy’s to fulfill the promise I made to him earlier in the week to help him pick up the keg for last night’s housewarming party. We picked up the portable Beirut table (which is proving to be only portable in name only), dropped it off at Andy and Rob’s and went to Total Beverage to get the keg and some ice. After we paid and were getting ready to put the keg in the car, the manager came by and offered to help. As he was lifting the keg from the dolly, I joked, “I guess they don’t have to offer you guys gym memberships here.” He paused, blinked, and said he wasn’t sure since he was the manager of a different Total Beverage and was just subbing for someone. I said, “I was just kidding…you know, keg lifting…?” and he half laughed. Either that guy is a 40-year-old liquor store manager for a reason, or he ruined my joke on purpose since he had heard similar ones nine times so far today. Someone was outwitted in that exchange. It may very well have been me.
Back at the house, Andy and I were struggling to get the keg out of the car and into the house, just as Rob arrived and helped out. HM and I went back to my apartment to meet up with Ian and Mickey in order to go see J-dogg play at Dr. Dremo. The plan was to see Jason play and then the five of us head to the party. He was scheduled to play at 8:30. The party was scheduled to start at 8:30, leaving us plenty of time to see Jason’s set and get back to Rob and Andy’s just as the party would be actually getting started. Perfect.
On the way to Dremo, we were behind a tow truck that had a K-mart shopping cart chained to the flatbed. I wonder where it was illegally parked. I stopped at the ABC to pick up a bottle of Citron for Rob. Inside, a homeless man was paying for a bottle of something with a single dollar bill and some assorted change. At first I felt bad for the guy, standard pathetic drunk bum thoughts running through my head. Then I looked at the bottle in my own hands, thought about my plans for the evening and realized that he’s just going to go enjoy his Saturday night like the rest of us. Have one for me too, buddy.
Jason played a belated yet strong set alone on stage with his guitar and a harmonica. Due to scheduling changes and an overall delay, we got to the party later than we had expected but things there were just warming up. The rest of the night was standard issue revelry including such high points as Beirut newcomer Suzannah managing to sink a satellite and spill one of our opponent’s teams’ cups. I’ve been tired and hung over for most of the day today, but hell, it was all worth it. Yesterday was fun.