What 6:55am looks like
Above, dear friends, is proof-positive of my success in "morning-persondom" - this picture taken as my (mis)adventures began on what was supposed to be an easy-going Friday in the valley. You'll note the entire absence of other bodies on my Express shuttle from West to East, since, yes, I am now officially the first person on the bus each day. But from this innocuous beginning flowed an unexpected force of social shenanigans, and led, I will admit, to my first full-blown hangover in the valley.
My day started in the usual manner, as I moved about the office in my carefree administrative paradise, thinking of the evening to come; I'd made plans with friends to share a spirit (or two) in the main Pleasant Valley hotspot, the good ol' Byward Market. The day flew by, and so released from work I made my merry way to the first stop of the evening: my friend Jen's house for an outdoor hike through the backwoods of the Greenbelt, and then dinner before departing by bus back to the downtown buzz of the valley market. We arrived a full 1.5 hours before our entourage, and so, as you might expect, ordered a pre-party aperitif...and then another one...and then perhaps one more. And so more folks arrived, much conversation and carousing, and perhaps one more cocktail arrived at the table. And then Act 2 was hatched...
SIDEBAR: Since Jen and I are both transit-going "Westenders" - and since the clock was approaching the midnight witching hour - we decided that if possible we should capitalize on our downtown situation and take in a round or two of karaoke at our sometime haunt, a little gay bar nestled at the back of an enormous parking lot in the core of the federal bureaucracy heartland (Queen and Bank, for those who know some PV geography).
Word to the wise: karaoke and alcohol are inseparable, especially at small gay bars nestled at the back of enormous government parking lots, so if sobriety is what you're after it may be wise to think twice before entering such dens of iniquity...
To make a long story short, the last I remember I was tumbling sideways into, and then backwards out of a $36 taxi cab...and it wasn't long before morning was upon me. Thank god for advil. Yes, the gods were kind who gave us wine to forget our troubles, and kinder still who gave us advil to forget our wine...
But today is a new day, and after an extraordinarily 'low-impact' Saturday, comprised mainly of naps, coffee and a little too much television, I'm going to go out and enjoy the damned fine weather before facing my second week of early starts, and my new-found lonely first position on the Express Bus to downtown...
3 comments:
Oh! That harsh early-morning light! Those hard-looking seats! It's too much!
Finally, a little sympathy... :)
Did I mention that all of the once lovely little jazz bars on Bourbon have since morphed into karaoke bars serving 3 for 1 beer? Not being much of a karaoke princess myself, I kept to more pedestrian (and plebian) places like Preservation Hall and Jackson Square during my holiday. Which now seems so very long ago...
Take heart, my friend, that you are not the only soul at work when the clock strikes 8 in the morning.
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