Tonight London and I met up with other like minded weekenders for sushi and then drinking and dancing at the Glass Cactus. For anyone not from the Metroplex, the Glass Cactus can be either exciting or unsettling but always an interesting look into the local culture.
Having lived in this part of the country most of life, I find the drinks at the Glass Cactus grossly overpriced. London on the hand thought they were pleasantly under priced. Londoners have clearly been bamboozled by the beer industry.
We danced, we drank, we danced some more. London tried to buy beer. “Bud Light” translated, “Bud” did not. He was frustrated, but persistent.
By the end of the evening, Montana had laid the smack down about his overabundance of manners, he had started a legitimate Texas line dance (his lie to perpetuate, not mine), we had seen the most frightening woman belly thing dancing on the stage (The quickest way to get hot girls escorted off the stage? Throw in an ugly chick.), and meandered back to the car.
Then it happened.
“Take me home… county road… to a place… I belong… take me home… West Virginia… take me home… I belong… country road… take me home…”
I can only assume this was a British remix of John Denver?
He crawled up the stairs to the bedroom singing to himself and drifted off to sleep while humming about a state he couldn’t locate on a map to save his soul… not that West Virginia is a major global player… or player at all.