I am very happy to report that the excursion was a success and that 4 tickets for Dane's performance have been procured.
I am happier still thinking about what an overall kickass roadtrip this is going to be. I already have a highly idealized version of the whole thing in my mind. We leave work early to make the long trek up to Waterville. On the way we listen to CDs that everybody likes and maybe even sing Row Row Row Your Boat as a rousing 4-part round. We arrive, check in to our quaint and charming room at the Comfort Inn, and go to check out Colby's campus. We tell stories about our own good times in college as we people-watch and consider what constitutes Downeast Keg Party Chic these days, and we don't feel old at all.
Then it's time for Dane! We get to the venue early because we have general admission tickets and god knows what the hell that means, we bust a gut laughing during the show, and we wonder where Dane's going to be afterwards (because where the fuck could he really go besides The Horny Lumberjack or whatever the campus bar is called?).
[Dream sequence: we find out where Dane's hanging out and go there. It's not crowded because hardly anyone knows he's there. We tell him what a great show it was and buy him a pint. He tells us to pull up at his table. Pitchers and stories start flying, he thinks we're cool and funny, and he starts reading all our blogs and commenting regularly. Someone influential finds us through Dane and gives Becca and me book deals. Dane becomes our newest best friend and invites us and all our friends to party in a luxury box at the Superbowl, where the Patriots win their fourth championship in five years.]
Late at night, we break into the indoor pool of our hotel and swim until the wee hours of the morning. We go to bed snug and happy, then wake up energized by the crisp fall air. We bathe and dress, step out into the sun-dappled morning, and find a place to get breakfast where you don't have to stand for an hour waiting for hungover freshman to figure out that they're cutting their French toast with the wrong side of the knife. Then we will meander homeward, oohing and aahing at the jubilee of foliage, stopping at roadside stands for pumpkins and apples, and grinning huge, foolish Black Hole Sun smiles.
Yes, it's going to rule.
I am happier still thinking about what an overall kickass roadtrip this is going to be. I already have a highly idealized version of the whole thing in my mind. We leave work early to make the long trek up to Waterville. On the way we listen to CDs that everybody likes and maybe even sing Row Row Row Your Boat as a rousing 4-part round. We arrive, check in to our quaint and charming room at the Comfort Inn, and go to check out Colby's campus. We tell stories about our own good times in college as we people-watch and consider what constitutes Downeast Keg Party Chic these days, and we don't feel old at all.
Then it's time for Dane! We get to the venue early because we have general admission tickets and god knows what the hell that means, we bust a gut laughing during the show, and we wonder where Dane's going to be afterwards (because where the fuck could he really go besides The Horny Lumberjack or whatever the campus bar is called?).
[Dream sequence: we find out where Dane's hanging out and go there. It's not crowded because hardly anyone knows he's there. We tell him what a great show it was and buy him a pint. He tells us to pull up at his table. Pitchers and stories start flying, he thinks we're cool and funny, and he starts reading all our blogs and commenting regularly. Someone influential finds us through Dane and gives Becca and me book deals. Dane becomes our newest best friend and invites us and all our friends to party in a luxury box at the Superbowl, where the Patriots win their fourth championship in five years.]
Late at night, we break into the indoor pool of our hotel and swim until the wee hours of the morning. We go to bed snug and happy, then wake up energized by the crisp fall air. We bathe and dress, step out into the sun-dappled morning, and find a place to get breakfast where you don't have to stand for an hour waiting for hungover freshman to figure out that they're cutting their French toast with the wrong side of the knife. Then we will meander homeward, oohing and aahing at the jubilee of foliage, stopping at roadside stands for pumpkins and apples, and grinning huge, foolish Black Hole Sun smiles.
Yes, it's going to rule.
2 Comments:
Psshht, you know you can. Actually, since it's a dream sequence, you and Professor K magically appear once we're at the bar with Dane. And you get a book deal too if you want one. :)
You know what's funny? Billy went to Colby, and remember how insistent he was that we go to the very random Cabos/Carbos place on the Cape? And then he called the next night to see if we'd gone? You know since we'll actually be in his territory this time that he's going to give me a laminated list of Horny Lumberjack bars we HAVE to visit.
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