Last night J and I drove to Raleigh to hang out at Chappy's new place and drink some wine, get dinner, and then see Ted Leo and the Pharmacists, something we'd all been looking forward to for weeks. We'd seen the band in this particular venue before and it was an energetic, unforgettable show. The thing about Ted Leo is he likes to come on at midnight or so. What is up with that, Ted? Or should I pose the question inwards? What is up with J and I that we could barely crawl out of bed this morning? Because staying up late and drinking a few beers shouldn't warrant me sitting here with my coffee contemplating lunch options as though that is the most strenuous thing my I'm capable of this morning.
Last night at about 3 a.m. I awoke to find myself in the backseat of J's Saturn, crumpled up after having passed out for the whole ride back to Chapel Hill. And when I say the whole ride as though we participated in the Indy 500, all I mean is the whole, thirty-minute ride from Raleigh to Chapel Hill. Woooooooo, we are nothing but risky! The reason I was in the back seat was that I failed to get into the front after we dropped Chappy off after the show. So what we had here was a guy, J, driving a girl, me, passed out in the back seat of his Saturn amongst all the clothes and camping gear we still haven't unpacked. My contacts were seared to my eyes as I peered through the blinding glow of our motion-sensitive light in the carport.
J and I stumbled into the house like we'd been mugged and beaten, instead of having seen a really cool band. He told me that the drive had been impossible - that he'd had to stop in a Waffle House parking lot for a few moments of sleep on the way. I used to ride down Commonwealth Avenue in a shopping cart during Boston winters after drinking tequila straight from the bottle right before closing time at the bar...still ready to party. And now, the Waffle House parking lot. But the night was worth it. We are adventurers, still, in this new stage of life.