Boston Triumphs. I Return.

Some celestial event... No- no words. No words to describe it. Poetry! They should've sent a poet...
-Ellie Arroway

Harlots' Ville

A week ago, I stayed at work until 5am. On a Friday night. I feel enough time has passed to touch back on this festering wound; I need to face the past before I can move on toward the future (especially, since it's 11pm on a friday and I'm still here, again.)

In my self-pity wallowing posts of tired puppy dogs pictures and pouty complaints, I never mentioned the original plan for that weekend, the one that Lawyer, Partner & Sons pulled the wings off like it had been a butterfly just emerging from the coocoon. I was supposed to leave work at 5pm, grab the small packed bag at my feet, and hop into the rental car waiting below that my brother had driven from Boston that afternoon. The two of us were then to drive well into the night to Charlottesville, Virgina, and spend the weekend engaging in riotous shenannigans with liquor-plied UVA sophomores and alums, courtesy the sis. Brother called upon arrival to NYC, and I had to tell him to just keep driving without me. Responsibility had me in a headlock, grinding my sensitive face into its meaty, gristled pit-stink.

I've started to field the "Where the hell were you?" emails (UVA has apparently shaken off it's hangover in time to rally for another weekend), because the crowd down there apparently remembers rather infamously the last time my sis had her two older brothers visit. (Involves peeing off parking garages, trampoline physics experiments on the kinetic energy of human bodies impacting earth, hennessy-shot contests with large black football players, several falls down public steps, and one 5th floor spiderman impersonation.) It was the first time in my life I ever actually spoke the words "Where am I?" upon waking up. (ViaGina remembers a close second, but I at least knew where I was... just not who I was with). These emails got me to thinking: with a sister who has two and a half years left on her undergraduate career, how long can I keep scamming off her for a party life I should have evolved past long ago?

The answer was quick and obvious. "As long as you can, stupid."