| Camp Night | |||||||
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| August 9 1998 |
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Hey You!
What kind of booze can I get'cho? |
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The task of the day: Moving |
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I spent most of today moving into a new place. Shawn and his girlfriend Marla (and their dog Milla) have a spare room which I'm now renting. More space than before, with kitchen and phone access. They are also more my age, and both attend the CIA. Looks like a pretty good match to me. So far, no dog bites. Yesterday was pretty funny. Shawn and I went up to Reinbeck (a town about 10 miles north of here) for sushi. It was pretty darn good. Probably some of the best I've had. Afterwards we wandered over to a bar where a friend of Shawn's (another CIA person, about to graduate) was working for the night. We sat and chatted for a bit. Tim told us we should hang out a while. It was going to be "Camp Night." Hmmm. Lots of people queen-ing around in drag? Videos of cheesy 60's Sci-Fi? No. Camp, as in Summer Camp. There are tons of summer camps here in upstate New York, so that tired parents can send their children away from the city. Camp Night is the one night when the counselors can get away and let it all hang out. Okay, we're game. How bad could it be? As we sat there, a few folks showed up. Shawn and I thought that "Camp Night" was a big bust. But just then, over one hundred 21-22 year olds (and younger, I'm sure) showed up within the span of about 30 minutes. They were ordering (and drinking) drinks like they had just stumbled out of the Sahara. After about fifteen minutes, Tim nodded to Shawn and mumbled, "Get back here." So Shawn was drafted for the evening as assistant barkeep. It was fair to complete out of control. The staff was drinking as well out of sheer desperation. I even poured a few rounds when Tim had to run off to get more booze. Around 2 in the morning, last call was made (NY State has no official last call time). It took until after 3 to get most of the folk to head out. Imagine the girlfriend, Marla. Shawn is gone, out until 3 in the morning. He's dropped off, and his car has been sitting there the whole time. Shawn's story? That he was tending bar. Marla is suspicious. The proof? A great big pile of soggy one dollar bills. So, I guess that NY isn't so boring after all, at least, not when there's Camp Night. |
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Copyright 1998 Tom Dowdy Comments? dowdy@poubelle.com |
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