Disclaimer: This is an extremely monofaceted summing up. Whiskey+no sleep+more whiskey=memory malfunction. Sorry if I missed anything.
Also, at least from the entangled pile of kittens' perspective (see below), this is only the tip of the iceberg. More will be posted later, prolly in the daylogs. Will link accordingly when available.
- - -
Gather 'round children, and let me tell you a tale.
Ridiculously Short Notice
Indigoe, my faithful side/ass kicker and I were lounging around doing not much at all, as we do, when I get an IM from Siobhan, safely ensconced at destructopad with dem silly Bahston muthafuckahs (and the house plant). We had met up with her and Dann and all dem other nodahs when they had passed through New Yawk on the way North. They tried to get us to come to Boston, a thing we would have done without thinking twice were it not for responsibilities such as work and not having a car and things of that nature. Also, in not mentioning the total awesomeness of jm, I think I lost some brownie points. Let it be now stated for the record that Andy is so awesome it doesn't ever need to be mentioned. He also has a cavernous stomach.
After pondering the phallic nature of eggrolls and trying to decide if Killgore, the Official Destructopad Feline™, was overweight, it was flippantly mentioned that she and Dann were heading through New York again on the way to a Nodermeet in Virginia.
Nodermeets are not to be missed if at all possible, particularly if a ride is offered, the company is stellar and...well, if we've got nothing better to do. The fact that we were given 24 hours notice was merely a sidenote.
So I decided to call out of work (which I forgot to do, but I'm still employed), indigoe packed her bag and off we went to the glorious land of...well, of Hoboken. Excuse me, of...(dons train conductor's cap) HOE-BOKEN.
We met up, and off we went.
I've never driven 6 hours with an iBook and an iPod for tunes, a roommate for backing vocals, a six-foot, +5 Rod of Merging for those tricky passing maneuvers and a noder or three for comic relief. I have since decided that it's the only way to travel.
Siobhan took pictures of New Jersey's industrial wasteland and Delaware's...um...Delawareness, while Dann pulled off some amazing photographic circus acts like, say, driving over the Delaware Memorial bridge, steering with his knees and snapping photos with his camera extended out the window. I became enthralled with the back of Siobhan's head and was only occasionally offered an opinion by Indigoe's extended middle finger, accompanied by such witty reparte as:
Indigoe: Fuck you.
Me: Shut up.
Indigoe: Fuck you.
Me: Shut up.
Indigoe: Fuck off.
Indigoe: (long pause) ...We're awesome.
(awesome maybe, but we were also extremely tired and just a bit punchy.)
Upon arrival in the wiles of Virginia (where even the crickets sound laid back and mildly intoxicated) we found the assembled crew. They had thoughtfully started drinking without us to provide a beery welcome and also to pass the time, seeing as how we were, erm, about 2 hours late.
It was about then that Indigoe and I, regardless of the fact that we got dressed at the same time over eight hours ago and had spent the intervening time sitting about six inches away from each other in the car, realized we were wearing exactly the same thing right down to our key rings. We contemplated staying out on the street and pretending we didn't arrive together (or even, it has to be said, knew each other). That was about when Grundy showed up and made our plans to hide obsolete.
We caught up with the drinkin', or at least I did, with Jurph
's help. He suggested we detonate
an Irish car bomb
to celebrate our arrival. Unfortunately, as we soon discovered, this particular bar didn't have Irish cream
. Or Guinness
. Or, oddly, shot glasses
. So we poured Jameson's
. It seemed like a good idea
at the time.
Food was had, shrines were made to the god of the Big Gulp and methods for circumventing orthodox Jewish laws were devised and discussed.
We disassembled, briefly, to get custard. Indigoe and I decided to stay behind and make friends with the whiskey bottle (ok, with that particular whiskey bottle) as well as with Unperson, hoping someone would bring us sweet stuff.
They did. Lots of it. And there was much sticky cone-licking. (Pervert).
Those people with, you know, day jobs, headed home after much fond farewelling, hugging and suchlike.
Grundy led me, indigoe, Dann and Siobhan back to her temporary digs after a brief unintentional tour of most of DC and the surrounding metropolitan area. Not wanting to end the party just yet, we cracked open a few beers and kicked it out on her porch, passing a guitar around like real southerners. We played German lieder, folk songs and your favorite mid-ninties alternative hits while straining to be heard over the cicadas and while simultaneously trying not to annoy the (possibly shotgun-wielding) neighbors.
The plan had always been to pass out like a pile of kittens...somewhere. So we (sans Grundy, who was blessed with a bed and all) did. On the porch, all snuggled up and warm.
The kittens awake in the cutest manner allowable under current Virginia law
Siobhan and I were rudely awakened at an unacceptably early hour by God's flashlight. We stumbled into the kitchen, blearily croaking for tea and...well, just tea, really, but the blueberry pancakes were a definite plus.
After we had all come to our senses, we were contemplating how, exactly, to show our displeasure to the FILTHY STINKING WEASELS who failed to show up (excuses notwithstanding), when IWhoSawTheFace walked through the door, head bowed in an appropriate display of humility, a look that lasted all of 30 seconds - I think he smelled the pancakes.
After adamantly arguing with Siobhan over the origins of the phrase "it's turtles all the way down," IWho put his money where his mouth was and bet her 5 big ones that it was Richard Feynman, not Stephen Hawking.
He lost, eventually, (she's a smart one) and to his credit, he paid up (In quarters). The photo evidence will be up...somewhere...shortly.
As much as we would have liked to stay all day just soaking up the stillness, I needed to be back in New York City in time for work (Didn't happen, but we tried. Not very hard, but we tried. I'm not complaining) so we hit the road.
With incredibly cheap cigarettes (by New York standards), visions of indigoe in viking garb chained to the roof in battle stance, charging with our mighty +5 Rod of Road Rage, the four of us shot down the hundreds of miles of highway to home... but this particular nodermeet did not end there.
(TO BE CONTINUED...)