My All-O'Mear-ican Adventure
Ok, so I'm not dead. Not that any of you were probably thinking that I was dead, but you never know. I've just been busy. In the future, if you think I need to be posting more regularly (because we all like to be regular), I respond well to cash incentives. Just saying.
I think I'll quickly recap my trip to O'Meara's and then maybe later this weekend or next week I can get all caught up everywhere.
So O'Meara's isn't so much in D.C. as it is way the hell out there. Which means Metro doesn't do it. You have to catch a train. Which I did. And check with the conductor on return times. Which I also did. And actually listen to what he says. Which I didn't.
I blame the excitement of going to O'Meara's. Or my five-second memory. Or my borderline retardation.* Luckily, while at O'Meara's I had no clue of the trouble it was going to take to get back to College Park. So I enjoyed my lunch worry-free.
Good enough food. Excellent drinks. Decor, whatever. Saved by the gi-normous picture of Don. After eating, I purchased my souvenirs, bid farewell to probably my best chance of seeing Don, and headed back to the train station. I meandered through downtown Manassas, went into some stores, and thought about how the North totally kicked the South's ass. Sorry, you dirty rebs.
Then I waited at the train station for 45 minutes, before some guy informed my that on Mondays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays, the Virginia Railway Express doesn't go back to D.C. after 3:15. It was Monday at 4:50. Do the math.
A cab to the nearest Metro would have been about $50, so this nice New Jersey-come-Southerner (whose name I can't remember, surprise, so I'll call him Rhett Soprano) offered to drive me. Remember how your parents always said don't accept rides from strangers? Great advice. Until you are stuck in Virgina with the looming possibility of paying a $50 cab fare.
So I hopped right into his car. No one tell my father. Rhett Soprano then drove me the 40 minutes to the Metro. How nice is that? Clearly, Father does not always know best. Hey, does that mean that I can start taking candy from strangers? I already take it from babies. It's pretty easy.
So that was my Don and Mike adventure. And since I forgot the coaster I had promised someone, some people might call this adventure a "disappointment." Something they probably won't repeat if they are currently enjoying their O'Meara's pint glass.
Sorry, we're out of time!
*Which, yes, is offensive. Welcome to my site and my world.
I think I'll quickly recap my trip to O'Meara's and then maybe later this weekend or next week I can get all caught up everywhere.
So O'Meara's isn't so much in D.C. as it is way the hell out there. Which means Metro doesn't do it. You have to catch a train. Which I did. And check with the conductor on return times. Which I also did. And actually listen to what he says. Which I didn't.
I blame the excitement of going to O'Meara's. Or my five-second memory. Or my borderline retardation.* Luckily, while at O'Meara's I had no clue of the trouble it was going to take to get back to College Park. So I enjoyed my lunch worry-free.
Good enough food. Excellent drinks. Decor, whatever. Saved by the gi-normous picture of Don. After eating, I purchased my souvenirs, bid farewell to probably my best chance of seeing Don, and headed back to the train station. I meandered through downtown Manassas, went into some stores, and thought about how the North totally kicked the South's ass. Sorry, you dirty rebs.
Then I waited at the train station for 45 minutes, before some guy informed my that on Mondays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays, the Virginia Railway Express doesn't go back to D.C. after 3:15. It was Monday at 4:50. Do the math.
A cab to the nearest Metro would have been about $50, so this nice New Jersey-come-Southerner (whose name I can't remember, surprise, so I'll call him Rhett Soprano) offered to drive me. Remember how your parents always said don't accept rides from strangers? Great advice. Until you are stuck in Virgina with the looming possibility of paying a $50 cab fare.
So I hopped right into his car. No one tell my father. Rhett Soprano then drove me the 40 minutes to the Metro. How nice is that? Clearly, Father does not always know best. Hey, does that mean that I can start taking candy from strangers? I already take it from babies. It's pretty easy.
So that was my Don and Mike adventure. And since I forgot the coaster I had promised someone, some people might call this adventure a "disappointment." Something they probably won't repeat if they are currently enjoying their O'Meara's pint glass.
Sorry, we're out of time!
*Which, yes, is offensive. Welcome to my site and my world.
posted by Ace | 12:21 PM
2 Comments:
I saw you recently, but I had wondered if something happened to you between last Thursday and today. The blog has been awfully quiet.
And I think calling someone "retarded" is only offensive if they actually are...
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