As I left my house on a slightly rainy evening to pick up Montana and my purported Scottish-Canadian turned American BFF so we could head to Addison home of the Two Ts for a fantastic evening of Foreigner, my text messages notification beeped.
“Hand Me Downs* said you two were going to Taste of Addison. That should be fun!”
Strange. Pretty sure I was going with Montana and my purported Scottish-Canadian turned American BFF to meet the Two Ts and some other randoms. My confusion was interrupted by my text message notification once again.
“Let’s meet up for Taste of Addison.”
Who am I to stop Hand Me Downs from joining us for taste of Addison? The more the merrier, right? I let him know what time and where we are meeting and continue on my way to meet up with everyone after a quick stop at IKEA for a kitchen in a box. We get to the Two Ts place about the time that everyone is heading out for Bowling for Soup. Hand Me Downs is lost… and late. We wait patiently, or as patiently as one can be when someone had more than ample time to get where they are going and lives 10 miles closer than I do and there was perfectly good beer being consumed by someone other than me.
Hand Me Downs arrives in style with no hat (wow… didn’t remember him being that bald), a raincoat (true it was sprinkling but seriously who wears a raincoat to an outdoor concert in Addison?), and an umbrella that he was using kinda like a cane (only he wasn’t wearing black clothes and a sweet bowler hat/billycock and strolling in the park whistling to himself… that would have made the umbrella thing okay). Goodness, he has aged since I last saw him mere days ago.
Perhaps Foreigner will have the same cloud of positive energy that Dave Matthews had. Then things will smooth out and I will know that we were meant to continue dating in a haze of positive energy.
No such luck. This couldn't be saved with second hand smoke anyway.
Hand Me Downs had his sister meet him out there. He decided he didn’t like where we were standing and moved back a bit. We stood in silence only occasionally speaking. Montana was uncomfortable. My purported Scottish-Canadian turned American BFF was uncomfortable and decided to go in search of lingerie and jewelry or some such absurdities. The Two Ts weren’t uncomfortable, but it was clear they thought I was.
Thankfully Hand Me Downs is elderly and was too tired to stay out late will all us crazy kids and our rock and roll music. The night wasn’t a complete bust due to other company and a rousing rendition of Hot Blooded followed by an evening of F the Dealer back at the Two Ts.