Like Walter said, the chronological account of the weekend has already been given, and given too damn well for me to want to mess it up with my confused and jumbled mass of memories. I don’t think I could write everything out the way it happened and I don’t think I’d want to. I like the disjointed way the memory of it sits in my mind, and I’m reminded of little happy snippets when something jogs my thoughts. Here goes my part:

I was going to pick up Walter and QXZ in Brooklyn and I was going to be prompt, having in my possession directions, an atlas, blah blah blah. (As if that sort of thing ever works!) I ended up having to have the menfolk meet me on a corner, because the streets around Walter’s place suck and now I know there is no exit 34 going west on the BQE. . .

We embarked on a mini road trip!

I think I scared my passengers with my incredible L337 driving skillz. Racing, tailgating and rapid-fire lane changes, all done to the sounds of the some fine musical choices by Walter. Plus singing and one scary black line in the sky (what the fuck?). Oh yeah, and the Forbes Diner (exit 49 off 95), where a cheeseburger deluxe is only going to cost you three fiddy.

We turned the wrong way (thank you, moxie) and drove almost all the way back to Connecticut before I sucked up the shame and called Chris-O to beg for help.

We finally made it to the white house on a dark street and walked in, to the tune of much love from randir, cahla and FoxtrotJuliet. Wickernipple promptly liberated my tequila, and that’s when everything started to get fuzzy. . . but I remember:

Wickernipple and randir being very interested in seeing if I actually had trunkbutt. Which I don’t.

cahla and I having the inevitable "who do you think is hot on E2" conversation.

Being delighted when Chris-O and QXZ played some Weezer tunes – yay for the boys with guitars!

Cordially introducing myself to mkb, who I’d met before, and then covering my ass by asking him to "Meet me again, for the first time."

Smoking way too many cigarettes out on the front lawn with everyone. Especially cahla who started me off in the beginning of the night.

Some sick Monopoly playing where too many people broke the rules, and I messed everything up when I gave all of my properties away. Sorry Walter – you know I didn’t mean to do you no wrong!

Toilet paparazzi!!!

Anyhow, I ended up laying down and listening to the Monopoly game, thereby forcing my claim to the big couch for the night. An elephant was then repeatedly jabbed into my butt (with instant photographic evidence), until we had to move the cars from out of the Mormon parking lot, lest the damned Christians have our cars towed. Then at last sleep, glorious sleep.

But the best part came the next morning…

Not dazedly watching as FoxtrotJuliet cleaned up everything all by herself. Not Wickernipple’s tempting breakfast suggestions (cup o’ lard, anyone?). Not the discovery of an innocent looking turtle that was secretly filled with a burning hate. Not even cuddling into cahla’s legs under my blanket after making my personal, biological mark on the flora of Rhode Island.

It was the euphoric feeling of looking around at a group of people who I haven’t known all that long, and who come from all localities and walks of life and situations; I look at them and I know I like them, maybe a little more than is healthy. Maybe I could fall in love with each and every one of them – it feels that way. I suddenly know I’ll miss them and that a part of my life will now be wondering about them and how they are and what they are doing. It’s knowing that the people around you are friends.

That’s the part I liked best.

Well, that and the living dead sea mammals, of course. And my ray hat. And big hugs. And knowing we're all Kung Fu masters.

I didn't, however, like the part where my rear tire exploded after I dropped off QXZ and Walter. I guess twenty dollar used tires don't take well to five hundred mile long road trips!.....but it was worth it :-)