TGSNT, Part 10.
It took a solid fifteen minutes to find my clothes (nigh-unthinkable, when you consider how large any article of clothing would have to be in the first place), and then I sought out my erstwile mate. The second story of the house was quiet; everyone else was still motionless, stashed away in oak cupboards, safe from the building whine of my insecurities. I believe Jen was snoring, although it was hard to tell; there were a lot of people left over, some stacked atop each other like a log cabin crafted by Vivid Video.
I stumbled down the stairs as quietly as possible (it can be done, when you have as many years of experience as I have) and reconnoitered. No D, anywhere. No beer. No angry jocks. Overall, not a lot to work with, although I did manage to locate Stein at some point. My dreams of connubial bliss fading like the stains of Jen's sofa, we decided to head back to campus. Oddly, we chose to do so on foot. I have no answer for that; I'd driven in much, much worse shape, and it would have been faster. It would have also provided a much-needed hasty retreat, later.
The sky can turn white when you've spent too much time in darkness, and it did so the moment we cleared the sheltering shroud of trees at the edge of Jen's property. The half-mile hike back to the Student Center (my unofficial advisor's office at Southern, where I signed many a schedule into being using a variety of assumed names) seemed endless, and my remarkable degree of dehydration didn't help. I felt like my lungs were sandpaper, my legs were iron, and my back had been stuffed into a can marked "Peanuts", just waiting for some poor dumb bastard to open it.
Typically, Stein would have analyzed my situation and damn near buried me with otherwise-useful truisms (I have a long history of ignoring the best advice, as given by some of the finest minds on the planet, and I doubt that's changed); this time, he mostly commiserated and shrugged. I have a feeling, looking back on the circumstances, that he knew exactly what was going on. He's that type of guy; he knows stuff. Sometimes, being the kind of guy I am, I pretend to listen.
Stein gave me a few more pseudo-mournful minutes of supportive conjecture (as he is contractually bound to do, I am told), then headed off to parts unknown (he kept muttering something about sleep, as he tended to do in those days.) I headed for D's dorm room, in the hopes of getting some answers.
Sure enough, she was sunning herself on the front lawn of the residence hall. I made sure not to stand in her light, having already spent an evening doing just that. Her hair looked like hammered platinum; she must have showered once she got home, since it had only looked hammered when I arrived on Jen's porch. I could just about smell her, cooking in the sun.
"Thanks," she said, "I couldn't have done it without you."
That was probably when my heart stopped. Then, or a couple of seconds later.
It took a solid fifteen minutes to find my clothes (nigh-unthinkable, when you consider how large any article of clothing would have to be in the first place), and then I sought out my erstwile mate. The second story of the house was quiet; everyone else was still motionless, stashed away in oak cupboards, safe from the building whine of my insecurities. I believe Jen was snoring, although it was hard to tell; there were a lot of people left over, some stacked atop each other like a log cabin crafted by Vivid Video.
I stumbled down the stairs as quietly as possible (it can be done, when you have as many years of experience as I have) and reconnoitered. No D, anywhere. No beer. No angry jocks. Overall, not a lot to work with, although I did manage to locate Stein at some point. My dreams of connubial bliss fading like the stains of Jen's sofa, we decided to head back to campus. Oddly, we chose to do so on foot. I have no answer for that; I'd driven in much, much worse shape, and it would have been faster. It would have also provided a much-needed hasty retreat, later.
The sky can turn white when you've spent too much time in darkness, and it did so the moment we cleared the sheltering shroud of trees at the edge of Jen's property. The half-mile hike back to the Student Center (my unofficial advisor's office at Southern, where I signed many a schedule into being using a variety of assumed names) seemed endless, and my remarkable degree of dehydration didn't help. I felt like my lungs were sandpaper, my legs were iron, and my back had been stuffed into a can marked "Peanuts", just waiting for some poor dumb bastard to open it.
Typically, Stein would have analyzed my situation and damn near buried me with otherwise-useful truisms (I have a long history of ignoring the best advice, as given by some of the finest minds on the planet, and I doubt that's changed); this time, he mostly commiserated and shrugged. I have a feeling, looking back on the circumstances, that he knew exactly what was going on. He's that type of guy; he knows stuff. Sometimes, being the kind of guy I am, I pretend to listen.
Stein gave me a few more pseudo-mournful minutes of supportive conjecture (as he is contractually bound to do, I am told), then headed off to parts unknown (he kept muttering something about sleep, as he tended to do in those days.) I headed for D's dorm room, in the hopes of getting some answers.
Sure enough, she was sunning herself on the front lawn of the residence hall. I made sure not to stand in her light, having already spent an evening doing just that. Her hair looked like hammered platinum; she must have showered once she got home, since it had only looked hammered when I arrived on Jen's porch. I could just about smell her, cooking in the sun.
"Thanks," she said, "I couldn't have done it without you."
That was probably when my heart stopped. Then, or a couple of seconds later.
posted by Thom Guthrie, Bassist and Adventurer at 9:21 PM
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