Last night was a time to spend with old friends. Saturday in general was a day for old friends. Friday was a day all alone. Thursday was a day with newer friends. Today was a day of work with new friends.
Loaded up around nine and were off to Berne. Phil in the passenger seat fiddling with the ipod, his radio a.d.d. accommodating my own quite nicely. I couldn’t even tell you how long it took for us to get there, because I wasn’t paying attention to time. We pulled into the parking lot of an elementary school.
The gym that we fondly referred to as the “holding cell” made me feel like I should be sitting next to Kevin and Winny at the big game, or better yet sitting next to Daniel and Nick making fun of the game, but secretly getting into all the yelling and chanting! The seats of the gym were old school boss, wood floor boards with a step between each row. Jeff and I sat mostly quietly as Phil was taught a well-choreographed fight scene by Darren and Mark. Then it happened it was time to move to the cellar.
When I say cellar I mean boiler room. When I say boiler I mean BOILER. When I passed the furnace Hartman did me the courtesy of pointing out that if I looked through the tiny window I could see the purple and blue fire swirling around inside what now seemed like a very flimsy metal box. Water covering the cement floor flowing slowly to the hole in the floor.
The day was long, and perhaps not as eventful as it feels in my head, but somewhere in there it does feel that way. Eventful. Maybe it was just educational. Or worth my while. I’m not sure.
It wasn’t the easiest weekend to live, and I don’t anticipate a mess of easy days to come, but as they say, “Without chaos, there’d be no happy accidents.”
You can learn a remarkable amount about one person simply by driving them a longish distance. It’s well worth it and I wish I could do such a thing with each of my friends, sit in the car, let them control the music and listen to what they have to say. Perhaps…