I got a friendly email from an old flame (who is now happily married) this morning, and realized we hadn't caught up on some mutual friends in a while, so I asked about a couple of them. Sometimes you shouldn't ask questions you don't want answers to. That, or he needs his own blog. Here's the response:
Oh my, we are so out of touch.
E. couldn't come to last years' Easter party because he had to have dinner with the vegan GF and some of her friends who were in town and take in the sight seeing. A week later, she summoned him to Cleveland to say she was quite distressed he did not go up to Rochester the month before to attend her father's funeral. (couldn't have done that on the phone?) So, they broke up and he's been doing the bar scene since.
I'm guessing I didn't tell you about the fall Gold Cup. E., B. and I went. You can imagine the rest. By 5 o'clock when it was time to get back on the bus, E could barely walk. He spilled red wine all over his white pants. Then somewhere on I-66 sitting next to me on the bus he just fell off his seat into the aisle. When we got back to the Clarendon Grill, it was dark and he was still wearing his sunglasses. Of course the bouncer had the good sense to refuse to let him in, so we went across the street to Whitlow's where E. started talking to some girl while I talked to her husband, who was quite close to putting E. out of his misery. We metro back to our stop, when E. discovers he doesn't have his jacket, which means he doesn't have his car keys (which is a good thing in retrospect). We call the Clarendon Grill and when they swept the bus they found them. So we all metro back, collect his stuff and metro back AGAIN. They slept over, but E. got up at 4 and drove home. He called me several days later complaining of a pain in his side -- turns out he broke a rib falling in the bus.
L., S. and the baby are fine. S.'s step mother died last month so they are flying to Jamaica this weekend to scatter the ashes. Obviously distraught.
|
