Street Smarts

I'd like to say that Kevin and I almost got murdered last night. But I don't really have any evidence that that's what would have happened if we hadn't gotten going when we did. Maybe Kevin saved our lives. Maybe he just cheated us out of hearing the end of a truly nonsensical story being told by a big black dude in a pith helmet who pronounces the "t" in "Chevrolet." I'd like to be able to say it was something truly harrowing or that we only narrowly escaped, but really I don't have any actual evidence that that guy (and the other quiet dude who came down the escalator and just stood there watching us) were actually going to do anything bad to us. Kevin heard some reference to cutting off George Washington's head and taking his woman and thought that might have been a veiled threat. I don't remember hearing that sentence. I was too busy trying to figure out how this guy was the fraternal twin of Marilyn Monroe.

He asked us if we were on our honeymoon, our would-be assassin. We were sitting on the steps of the closed Metro station, but I guess that looks more romantic than I think. I'm glad we weren't on our honeymoon, because we spent a good part of the valuable nighttime hours disagreeing about religion and politics and religious politics. And that's no way to begin a life together. The near-murder enabled us to end the evening in solidarity, as it seems we both would like to continue living for a while yet. We celebrated our arrival on common ground by watching Futurama Season 4. And then I drove home, because it was dawn, and I went to bed regretting some of the food and drink choices I had made. I brought twelve six packs of imported beer to Zach's barbecue, but all I drank was whiskey (which I also brought). Anyway, I'm good to have at a party is my point. But not a teetotalling party. I would do nothing but complain at one of those.