I was SO HOT in D.C. that when we approached Paul's car, I followed him to the drivers side. "What are you doing?" he asked.
"What are you doing?" I asked back.
"Driving?" He questioned.
"Oh hell no, I'm getting out of these clothes." I stripped right then and there, literally peeling off my clothes and putting on a short-sleeved polo shirt and shorts I had brought 'just in case.' It was a good thing too, because I wasn't about to go gallivanting around D.C. in my suit and tie. We went to 'Hops' a local brewery (that didn't make a pilsner) and shared a pitcher of beer over stories. Then we walked around the area smoking a Portofino Hampton cigar. It was perfect. We drove to the airport where I had been bumped from my flight, then out to his house near Indian Head (where I spent my honeymoon) listening to the CD I made of him of songs we used to listen to when we were roommates between 1992-1995.
Picked up stuff for sandwiches and "Presedente" a Dominican 'Pilsner-style' beer (it wasn't) and a six-pack of "Red Stripe" in case it wasn't (good call!) Had sammaches, then his wife and son arrived. I posted earlier that I hadn't seen her since 1997, but my wife called me a dolt and reminded me that we had vacationed with them in 1999. Still, seven years. She looked great and I'd never met his son, who is my daughter's age. We stayed up late drinking beer and telling stories and I worse them out as I was still on STL time. I was also accused of having not changed a bit. "I would have liked to have matured in the seven years since I last saw you." I exclaimed. She just laughed dismissively. Not yet, I guess. I'll work on that.
I now have a headache.