The life of a vagrant continues to be as awesome as I imagined. Sleeping under highway overpasses, free meals at homeless shelters, and the occasional hot water shower. I'm just walking the earth and livin'. L. I. V. I. N. As I talk to my friends who have already entered the working world I can hear the corporate America in their voices and I realize that I have less than one month until that's me. In fact, this week I have to go in for processing for work, which literally makes me feel like I'm a robot or something going in to get my bolts tightened and my joints oiled. Not sure if removal of the heart is part of this 'processing'. I also have a drug test which I intend to pass with flying colors.
This weekend I went up to lovely Manchester, VT for a wedding of two friends from business school. After a nice wedding weekend up in the Berkshires back in June I was looking forward to heading back up to the mountains of New England. After the scenic drive up I was incredibly hungry and wanted to go to one of those quintessential New England eateries and mix it up with the locals. After driving through town and making several snap judgments based on decor and types of cars parked in various parking lots I settled on Maxwell's Flat Road Grill. All VT plates in the parking lot and most of the cars were pickups, which was perfect. In I walked with my red polo shirt, collar up, and polo shorts, looking like I had literally just robbed the Polo outlet which was about 2 minutes down the road. I walked in and it got deathly quiet, and literally everyone stared at me. It was as if I'd just shot their beloved Vermont brethren Ben & Jerry and had decided to come in for a burger to celebrate. This one mustachioed gentlemen gave me a particularly long death stare which made me slightly concerned because his shirt read, and I quote (because I immediately texted this to myself upon reading it)..."I Just Shot My Load at the Brookfield Rod and Gun Club". You stay classy Manchester, Vermont. Undeterred I sidled up to the bar and sat down. Conversation had started up again, and things seemed pretty lively because it was about 4:30pm and the Jim Beam was flowing like Poland Spring. So I order what any good Brookfield Rod and Gun Club member would order at 4:30pm on a Friday, a Long Trail Ale and an angus burger, extra bloody. After drinking beer that was probably brewed with water and giant catfish from the Mekong River I can't really even describe how good a crisp New England microbrewed ale tastes with a burger on a hot day.
Anyway, I'm sitting there watching ESPN, which is on mute, and whatever, I'm bored so I try to fit in a little bit.
Me: (Sipping my beer and looking at the TV) Quite a spell we're having.
Rod & Gun Club Guy: Excuse me?
Me: Oh nothing.
R&G: No, you said, 'quite a spell we've been having'. Quite a spell of what?
Me: Me? I didn't say anything.
R&G: Listen Mr. Smahtypants, I know what you said.
Awkward Silence
Me: Fuck Jetah, go Sawks!
Everyone in the bar: Go Sawks!!!!
And then they carried me around the bar on their shoulders and it was awesome. Oh that Red Sox Nation, they sure love their steroids and hate their Yankees. All the wedding events all weekend were great, and I wasn't the only single person at the wedding. There are in fact other single people on this earth. So with that, I'm going to pick some raspberries. Long live summer.
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