Periscope Depth

look at the tested and think there but for the grace go I

At 90s Night this past Friday, I ran into KT, who had fully recovered from her case of K.I.D. (though I hear there’s 18 to 25 years of outpatient visits). I only got to see her briefly. And b0st0n regular jenskot (no known alias) showed up as well with a friend of hers from school. But the high point of the evening was running into Erin L. and Matt W. I hadn’t got to dance around to Bosstones with Erin since … 2001? Holy hell. College was a long time ago.

“It’s good that we’ve run into each other now,” I yelled to her over the music, “at a point in our lives where our hair is the best it’s ever been.”

# # #

Saturday, after brunching with Rachel V. in the morning, I went to Lisa B’s birthday party at her sky-rise in Medford. I lost several games of flipcup but stayed sober enough to drive home, partly by loading up on an insane number of carbohydrates.

Someone put The Princess Bride on TV about half an hour before I left. “What do you think would happen if Andre the Giant fell on you?” Steve M. asked me.

“He’s a bit taller than me,” I observed, “but he’s three times my weight. So I doubt he’d even …”

“Three times? Jesus.”

# # #

Sylvia and RJ mentioned earlier in the week that they’d never seen Road House, so I dragged them to my apartment on Sunday evening to watch it.

“She can’t make eyes at him,” RJ complained, as the Kelly Lynch / Patrick Swayze romance began to bud. “That sketchy bar owner’s already been sizing him up.”

“This movie has both homo- and hetero-eroticism,” I told him. “You’re allowed to have both.”

“I guess.”

# # #

Monday I attended my first Yelp! Elite event. I don’t know who’s making money off these things; it’s happening in a way that’s invisible to me. If you’re an “Elite” reviewer – and if they let me in, how hard can it be? – you get invitations to monthly events at local bars. Corporations provide gift bags and free drinks and snacks. Guests pay nothing. This has to profit somebody; I’m not sure who.

The February event was at Noir on Monday night. Not only did I chat up Serpico, Kim, Joanna and Brian – folks I see all the time – but I went out of my way to meet strangers, too. I mingled, which is shocking if you know me. And I loaded up on fancy appetizers and downed three Maker’s Mark Manhattans in ninety minutes. Either the bacon and spinach dip really soaks up the bourbon or they poured the (free) drinks light, as three Manhattans will normally floor me. But I was in good enough shape to watch people ice skate.

“Are you going to skate?” Lauren R. asked.

“Nope,” I said, gesturing in the air a foot above my skull. “My center of gravity’s right about here.”

“Well, we’re going to.”

“Great. Remember to fall on your forearms, not your hands. Have fun!”