Saturday, July 30, 2005
Strange Visitor from Another World
The Summer of Invisible Ben marches on, and I continue to squander it. Sleeping late (I really need a new alarm clock. Using the sun just isn't working out.),going to the library to study chemistry, borrowing movies from the library, and then watching them at night. It's something of a vicious cycle, generally interrupted by the occasional pub trivia game or personal errand. With August nearly here, I suppose lesson planning will also have to come into play, but I'll probably wait until after my chemistry exam next week before that kicks into gear.
All the same however, a break in routine is almost always welcome once one has dug himself into a rut, and that's why I was so glad to receive an e-mail the other day from Deep Throat. No, not the Watergate Deep Throat: my friend from high school whose dynamic frisbee style earned him that laryngological nickname. Apparently, he would be in town on Friday and was interested in grabbing lunch and catching up on old times. I had a Jay Sherman moment as I checked my schedule ("Manic...depressive...manic...depressive..."), and quickly decided to e-mail him back in the affirmative.
Which is why if you checked on my location on Friday afternoon, you would have discovered me in the Invisible Benmobile searching the streets of downtown for a lone man wearing sunglasses. After picking Throat up, we drove to my favorite gastropub only to discover it is closed for lunch. So then it was to the south end of town for delicious cheesesteaks. I taught Throat how to order properly (wiz-wit'), though he still refused to accept the merits of cheese whiz on a steak and went for provolone. He soon received a greasy comeuppance for his choice of cheese however when the sandwich dripped what seemed to be several tons of juices on his shirt. And this was powerful grease. Not like that crap you might see up north. This grease'll swallow ya whole!
After a brief tour of the city and a cool, refreshing water ice, it was back to the Invisible Penthouse where we hung out, attempted to defeat the grease that had eaten Throat's shirt, and trounced the computer in a game of Ultimate Risk. Then it was off once more to the gastropub for dinner. Of course, no one could have known there would be a flood. You know you're in trouble when biblical style disasters are standing between you and your dinner. A water main break had left a miniature pond for several blocks around the restaurant and no cars were permitted to drive anywhere past the police line. But, all was not lost. We parked on an open side street, and braved the dangers to get to the pub.
While Throat enjoyed the cask-aged ales and boar chops and I chowed down on duck salad and fried oysters (it's a gastropub after all!), we caught up on old times. The core group of my high school friends still keeps in close touch and live near each other in Boston, and although I had been up to visit in March, since I started teaching, Throat was the first of their lot to drop down here and check on the fort, as it were. In fact, save for a few sporadic instant messages, lately I have heard next to nothing from the rest of them. So it's good to know the Skiing Chemist, Mathman, Ramblin' Dave, Caseator, and the rest are all still alive and doing well. After dinner, we returned to my place for dessert. I had made fudge for an event held the previous evening and still had leftovers. Throat approved, which was something of a compliment coming from a gourmand such as himself.
We both had early appointments the following morning, so it was soon off to bed. Throat had a wedding to get to and I was due for a trip to the shore. I can't really speak for the wedding, but the shore was actually a lot of fun. And this despite the fact that I burn up quicker than flash paper in a stove factory. The water was comfortable and because I am legally blind sans glasses, I couldn't see the jellyfish over which everyone else kept panicking. Beach frisbee was a lot of fun, even if my forehand kept getting caught up by the winds. Oh, and we played Uno, and kept score, which really teaches you to use those Draw 2's right quickly or risk getting penalized for your hesitation. Returned home exhausted and sunburned (nothing worse than a burnt scalp) and after watching some television, collapsed.
The next day, Throat returned back to the city following the wedding. I had no idea there were regulation Beer Pong tables out there, complete with cup holders, but apparently these things exist and they had them at the party. Which tells you something, I think about the sophistication of the whole affair. I always find it odd to hear that friends of mine are getting married. Weren't we just in high school? Things are moving faster all the time, I guess. Throat and I went off to my old elementary school to throw the Frisbee around. Forehand worked a lot better without beach winds to blow it off course. Sadly, I didn't feel quite as comfortable diving as I had on the sand, but every field has its pluses and minuses. We had just enough time following frisbee to get ready for dinner at a fancy sushi restaurant (run by and named for an Iron Chef, no less). The tempura rock shrimp and salmon roll I got were good, but paled somewhat in comparison to Throat's yellowtail pastrami (home cured for 12 days before serving!) and sea bass. We both got very good desserts: a wasabi tiramisu and a citrus panna cotta (a custard like dish served with a strawberry-pineapple salsa and cherry sherbet).
On the walk back to the car we discovered that the city's African-American history museum is a mere stone's throw away from a federal detention center. A bit of irony to wrap up the weekend, as Throat was now minutes away from missing the airport shuttle. I dropped him off and then went to pub trivia where yet again my team fell victim to the raging round robin. But it was still good fun. Especially since one of the people in attendance had played frisbee with Throat in college, earning the nickname Statutory. I doubt he'll mention that to the students he'll be teaching in New York come September.
I found out later that Throat did miss the shuttle, but caught a later train and was able to get home safely, and just in time for a trip to Minnesota. Busy, busy, busy those Bostonians. Always something going on. It's good they can sometimes take time out from their schedules to check up on old friends down south.
The Summer of Invisible Ben marches on, and I continue to squander it. Sleeping late (I really need a new alarm clock. Using the sun just isn't working out.),going to the library to study chemistry, borrowing movies from the library, and then watching them at night. It's something of a vicious cycle, generally interrupted by the occasional pub trivia game or personal errand. With August nearly here, I suppose lesson planning will also have to come into play, but I'll probably wait until after my chemistry exam next week before that kicks into gear.
All the same however, a break in routine is almost always welcome once one has dug himself into a rut, and that's why I was so glad to receive an e-mail the other day from Deep Throat. No, not the Watergate Deep Throat: my friend from high school whose dynamic frisbee style earned him that laryngological nickname. Apparently, he would be in town on Friday and was interested in grabbing lunch and catching up on old times. I had a Jay Sherman moment as I checked my schedule ("Manic...depressive...manic...depressive..."), and quickly decided to e-mail him back in the affirmative.
Which is why if you checked on my location on Friday afternoon, you would have discovered me in the Invisible Benmobile searching the streets of downtown for a lone man wearing sunglasses. After picking Throat up, we drove to my favorite gastropub only to discover it is closed for lunch. So then it was to the south end of town for delicious cheesesteaks. I taught Throat how to order properly (wiz-wit'), though he still refused to accept the merits of cheese whiz on a steak and went for provolone. He soon received a greasy comeuppance for his choice of cheese however when the sandwich dripped what seemed to be several tons of juices on his shirt. And this was powerful grease. Not like that crap you might see up north. This grease'll swallow ya whole!
After a brief tour of the city and a cool, refreshing water ice, it was back to the Invisible Penthouse where we hung out, attempted to defeat the grease that had eaten Throat's shirt, and trounced the computer in a game of Ultimate Risk. Then it was off once more to the gastropub for dinner. Of course, no one could have known there would be a flood. You know you're in trouble when biblical style disasters are standing between you and your dinner. A water main break had left a miniature pond for several blocks around the restaurant and no cars were permitted to drive anywhere past the police line. But, all was not lost. We parked on an open side street, and braved the dangers to get to the pub.
While Throat enjoyed the cask-aged ales and boar chops and I chowed down on duck salad and fried oysters (it's a gastropub after all!), we caught up on old times. The core group of my high school friends still keeps in close touch and live near each other in Boston, and although I had been up to visit in March, since I started teaching, Throat was the first of their lot to drop down here and check on the fort, as it were. In fact, save for a few sporadic instant messages, lately I have heard next to nothing from the rest of them. So it's good to know the Skiing Chemist, Mathman, Ramblin' Dave, Caseator, and the rest are all still alive and doing well. After dinner, we returned to my place for dessert. I had made fudge for an event held the previous evening and still had leftovers. Throat approved, which was something of a compliment coming from a gourmand such as himself.
We both had early appointments the following morning, so it was soon off to bed. Throat had a wedding to get to and I was due for a trip to the shore. I can't really speak for the wedding, but the shore was actually a lot of fun. And this despite the fact that I burn up quicker than flash paper in a stove factory. The water was comfortable and because I am legally blind sans glasses, I couldn't see the jellyfish over which everyone else kept panicking. Beach frisbee was a lot of fun, even if my forehand kept getting caught up by the winds. Oh, and we played Uno, and kept score, which really teaches you to use those Draw 2's right quickly or risk getting penalized for your hesitation. Returned home exhausted and sunburned (nothing worse than a burnt scalp) and after watching some television, collapsed.
The next day, Throat returned back to the city following the wedding. I had no idea there were regulation Beer Pong tables out there, complete with cup holders, but apparently these things exist and they had them at the party. Which tells you something, I think about the sophistication of the whole affair. I always find it odd to hear that friends of mine are getting married. Weren't we just in high school? Things are moving faster all the time, I guess. Throat and I went off to my old elementary school to throw the Frisbee around. Forehand worked a lot better without beach winds to blow it off course. Sadly, I didn't feel quite as comfortable diving as I had on the sand, but every field has its pluses and minuses. We had just enough time following frisbee to get ready for dinner at a fancy sushi restaurant (run by and named for an Iron Chef, no less). The tempura rock shrimp and salmon roll I got were good, but paled somewhat in comparison to Throat's yellowtail pastrami (home cured for 12 days before serving!) and sea bass. We both got very good desserts: a wasabi tiramisu and a citrus panna cotta (a custard like dish served with a strawberry-pineapple salsa and cherry sherbet).
On the walk back to the car we discovered that the city's African-American history museum is a mere stone's throw away from a federal detention center. A bit of irony to wrap up the weekend, as Throat was now minutes away from missing the airport shuttle. I dropped him off and then went to pub trivia where yet again my team fell victim to the raging round robin. But it was still good fun. Especially since one of the people in attendance had played frisbee with Throat in college, earning the nickname Statutory. I doubt he'll mention that to the students he'll be teaching in New York come September.
I found out later that Throat did miss the shuttle, but caught a later train and was able to get home safely, and just in time for a trip to Minnesota. Busy, busy, busy those Bostonians. Always something going on. It's good they can sometimes take time out from their schedules to check up on old friends down south.
