A Magnetic Zero 4/7
09 March 2010 at 4:05 pm
I buy the first round since Daniel got me in, and we chat amiably about our respective significant others, say hello to the handful of people we vaguely know (friends from college, customers from the bar, former coworkers--man, it's like I've built myself a whole life here or something!).
It's awkward juggling my wallet, inside of which is my cell phone, and my keys, so Daniel is a super gentleman and not only refreshes my Maker's rocks all night, but also functions nicely as my purse by placing my belongings in his pocket.
Fast forward to the end of the evening, at which point I am walking around and around in circles, looking desperately for Daniel, who (I realize after a half an hour of "Maybe he's in the bathroom? Maybe he's backstage? Maybe he's on the smoking patio? Maybe he's at the bar? Maybe we just missed each other and I should check all those places again?") has left. With my wallet. My keys. And my cell phone.
Everyone I know has left as well. I am admirably, and suspiciously, proficient at scoring free rides from strangers, so I mention this problem to the guy I was chatting with while bopping around to "Home." He chivalrously mentions something about possibly getting a ride from his friend who may be too drunk to drive, but I don't want to be in that situation, so I make my way down the stairs and gear myself up for the walk home.
That's when it starts raining. OBVIOUSLY.
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Hi. Morgan, 27, of Santa Barbara, CA. I am a hypocritical admirer of rhetoric (when it is my own) and an observer of literary trends. A secret: I don't take anything very seriously, and that includes myself.