shhhh. please don’t tell.

We thought Friday night was going to be off, courtesy of some Amtrak delay-a-rama. But all was not lost. They pulled out some speed somewhere (maybe they cut off a stop in NJ? kidding…) and Mag was all of 15 minutes or so late.

And we were off to the Smith. Ahhhh. I do love the Smith. And I introduced her to my favorite bathroom past-time there – the photo booth. This is time numero tres for me. Novelty is yet to wear off, I must say…

We met MsSG over at the Thirsty Scholar, where we had the bartender yell at us to tell us happy hour was off. Yes sir. We can read. We see it says until 9, and being that it is 11, we know you can feel free to rob us blind. Thanks.


From there, we went to PDT, where we watched some of the rudest people ever. Big group after big group showed up, sans-reservation. No can do, sir. One by one, rejection. Only exception was one group of two couples. They walked up to the booth, buzzed, and spoke with the hostess. Apparently there were two spots at the bar, and so dude 1 turned to couple 2 and said “oh, um sorry, but we’re going in”. Oooooh. That’s a fab friend.

Thoughts of post-Crif dog hit was nixed, the bus was found, and we found our way back home to wrap up the night with a healthy late night snack of Buttercup cupcakes (mmmm) and recharge. Not bad considering Friday’s are usually my writing night in. Slightly different Friday this week…

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