After work on Monday, Tim and I took the purple line express to Chicago. We got off, and grabbed a bus south until we came to the art gallery we were invited to. The event? The Guinness Believer promotional event. Men were invited, and women (their guests) had to fill out a questionnaire. After being ushered into a room with a television screen showing commercials of the goodness of Guinness, we helped ourselves, and wondered how we were invited. There were several theories spread throughout the night, but the most plausible is that Jewel sold our names to a list. Not that we minded too much, it was free beer and food after all.
After about an hour we were led upstairs to a dining room with tables laid out with food and dish ware, and in the middle of each table a mini tub of beer. We sat down at a table near the front, and people soon filled it up around us. There were five other guys and one other girl that seemed vaguely familiar. I didn’t dwell on it too much, someone the name Ali stuck in my head. After another half hour, and some more beer than I should have been drinking, I look again at the girl with red hair, pulled back into a pony tail, and familiar brown eyes. Suddenly, I ask her “Did you go to Menomonie?” and she starts shrieking.
She went to Menomonie for one semester, my senior year of high school. The last part of high school actually. This was the girl who I convinced to skip class, go back to my home and pick up Zima to bring to work, and stop by Burger King to by a Kid’s meal for our Spanish teacher. The same girl that I was convinced that the Violent Femmes sang “Shake hands, I know your the one.”
Here she was sitting next to me. Of all the people Guinness could have picked in Chicago, and the chances of us sitting next to each other, and remembering. She remembered my voice. I remembered her eyes, but also I recalled what we did together. She couldn’t bring that up. That’s okay, because I have an excellent memory for those kinds of thing. How crazy is that? How random.
We home tipsy, and stopped for an extra lighter beer at the Lighthouse on the way home and kept Don company. We learned that they drafted men into the war outside of wartime needs. Apparently the stopped after Vietnam, but does anyone have details? When did the random draft stop? After visiting, we went home and to sleep.
The next morning was hell. It’s not like I *knew* that drinking more than 1 Guinness would make us sick as hell. We has such terrible hangovers that I knew there was no way I could go to work. Amidst strange dreams, I woke long enough to call myself in, and Tim followed suit soon after. We spend a wonderful day in the apartment on the nippiest day this fall. Reading, watching movie and TV, talking, sleeping and eating leftovers. It was more than just a recovery day for my physical self. 8)
Oh, and Buffy the Guidance Counselor? I am just kind of saddened to see them go all the way back to the beginning. I hope Angel won’t be as disappointing, but that isn’t for two more weeks.