This past weekend, I had the opportunity to enjoy an evening of frivolous activity and general fun with my very best friends. As I stood looking in my mirror, clipping on my tie and remembering to not zip up my pants, I knew that this night would be magical… Dinner, Drinks, Dancing… all reaching beyond my wildest hallunications.
After a fine evening of masticating perfectly seasoned beef medallions, I found myself engulfed in the good of humanity. Laughter filled the large ballroom as an 80s cover band lit the candle of exuberance with a stirring rendition of “Jack and Diane”.
As I sat near the bar, I noticed a gentleman approaching who I didn’t recognize but who obviously knew me. I did my best to recall his name…unable, I quickly filtered through my general greeting list. “Hey Buddy” presented itself as my best alternative. I sat perched, prepared, pugnacious.
As “Buddy” came to a halt in front of me (ridiculously close to my cash and prizes) I found myself ruing the fact that I don’t often cross my legs. This simple, effeminate, berry-pinching posture would have chagned the scope of my evening.
As “Buddy” gathered his drink order and turned to leave, his right butt-cheek found its way to my knee. As he stumbled to move away, I found myself with a full-grown semi-stranger perched upon my right knee.
And so… I give you my tribute… to a perfect Saturday night…
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