Things change. The only constant is change. And that which once was becomes what it will be, which by virtue of time is always in flux. Except for Twinkies and love. Then its every man for himself.
There was in time in my life when Friday meant something.
We got free donuts at the job. I would pop up at the Happy Hour given by the spot of the minute. I could relax at a Game night with my people. Or at the bare minimum, the promise of the hot (or lazy) weekend.
But no more. I chose to go back and get my education, to better myself, to increase my depth. And so for the past few years, Friday has been more a gateway to more intense studying. All it really took was one long “after drunk” - not a hangover, but still feeling out of sorts - to tell me that heading out and drinking on Friday wasn’t the best possible plan if I actually intended to graduate. So, many a Friday I would pick up a book to get my reading started before my Saturday homework periods.
But this time, one of my old partners was in town celebrating her big four oh, the spot wasn’t that far from the house and it started early enough that I could swing in, commiserate and be out in less than an hour. I know this plan, and the outcome. But that trick NEVER works! This time for sure.
Her gathering is at Mingles, a fairly new little eatery in downtown. I get off work at seven-ish, get there around seven thirty. I’m just gonna dip in and say hi to a few folks, whoo whoo, figure I’d be out by eight or eight thirty by the latest.
Only I’m the only one there.
Mingles via BBerry...from our lonely perch.So it’s me and the birthday girl at the bar for an hour and half. She’s quietly working up a slow fury and I’m trying to not look like a complete and utter ass by getting up and walking out. We’re in an odd little dance. It’s not helped that besides her group, there are five other....much more well attended... parties going on at the same time. Mingles is a small place, essentially one big room, and as she’s watching for her people to arrive, this isn’t lost on her.
To keep it lively, she keeps pointing out the patrons as they enter, and commenting in a fashion that can only be deemed as both evil and hilarious.
“She can’t walk in heels. She how she moves.”
“How do you do that? Have dreads from the sides but have bald patches on top.”
“If she sneezes, she’ll pop out of the dress. Give me some pepper, its about to be a show.”
Even as I both laughed and felt a little sad for her, she reminded me of the other aspect of night life I had missed, and why I don’t go out as much any more. A lot of the women she talked about, and she talked about a lot of them, where in their "Friday uniform" - mini skirt or mini-dress, heels and makeup. And they were looking nice.
Very nice.
When two of her girls finally did show up, I reminded her about my Saturday morning class and headed out. I got home just in time to have wrecked the whole evening. I tightened up my opening statement a bit, an hour or two, then hit the hay so I could get up early to work on it some more before class.
The moral of the story? I guess is that there is a lot beauty out there. In mini-skirts. But I’m focused, trying to keep my eyes on the prize, and so all that is out of my focus right now. And Mingles ain't even the hot spot!
Barkeep. Water. I need to keep my wits about me!
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