So yeah, this weekend I made a trip upstate to reconnect with some old friends. It was a pseudo-spontaneous trip. I say pseudo-spontaneous because I had obsessed over the decision for several days in my twisted head until finally simultaneously winning and losing the argument. I booked the tickets, and was on my way.
Oh how I wish it were that simple. The on my way part, not the deciding part.
Friday I had to work, so I planned to take a late JetBlue flight to the land of cows and horses to which I owe my fantastical State Bachelor's Degree. Come 5:30 pm I was out the door and heading to JFK. Then it all came crashing down.
By that I mean somewhere in the five hours between work and takeoff, I managed to reach a new height of despising humanity. I used to enjoy airports, but my eyes were opened to the pulsing, writhing mass of self-centered garbage that they really are. I still like flying, however. The snacks are delightful and the little TVs pretty fantastic. If only there were a way to do it without having other people around. In one terminal, I determined that I would feel ok punching absolutely any of the people around me in the face, including the people asleep in their strollers. I suppose I was overtired, because the feeling passed as soon as I started actually moving. Anyway, I finally arrived in Rochacha airport, and was picked up by these people:
Anyway, they (sadly) weren't dressed like that at the time. But they did drive me safely to our destination, stopping at what was temporarily the largest Wal*Mart in America to buy beer. And then the real fun started. Hooray for being reunited with old friends! New friends, no offense.
I know what some of you are thinking. "Ew, was Rev really one of those lame people who go back to their college after having graduated to go to parties and pretend like he's all cool still?"
And it was all I dreamed it could be.
And shut your filthy whore mouth.
Remember my Hexxus theory? You know, about Staten Island? If not, scroll down to my Saint Patrick's Day post. Anyway, I sometimes feel that every day I spend on Staten Island, my soul battles this monster that kills a small piece of it. I guess it's more of a Spider-Man vs. Symbiotic costume struggle. If you don't know what I'm talking about, just wait until Spider-Man 3 blows your mind out the back of your skull.
Basically my point is that by returning to Geneseo and seeing all the fantastic people from my salad days, I recharged my batteries. I'm on top of the world and picking up abandoned writing projects like gangbusters.
There was a keg party, and cheap beer in plastic cups and berating ignorant freshmen! Unfortunately I was a little too busy with the drinking and debauchery and knife-wielding Puerto Ricans to take a lot of good pictures, but I managed to snap this one:
In order to explain just what we are doing here... allow me to use the miracle of modern technology to travel over six years into the past, to a trio of fresh-faced freshmen about to embark on their first performance in the Musical Theater Club:
were we ever so young?
So those two pictures will close out this blog. I apologize for everyone who was expecting something jucier or whatever.
But seriously, thank you to everyone who made this past weekend such a blast, you're all fantastic and A-OK in my book. If ever you need anything that I can help out with, feel free to send up the Rev signal.
"Could you give me the number for the Middle East?"
"Peace in the Middle East!"