Yesterday night I arrived in Minneapolis, the motherland.
Tonight, I followed Aaron's lead, and we ended up in a tiki bar. It was a move we would soon regret- it turns out we are too old to drink sweet rum drinks out of pineapples. There was a period of about a half hour when our entire party was unexpectedly drunk and slap happy, but it was downhill from there. The hangover resulting from "The One Eyed Willy" (my potent poison) set in about five seconds after the drink was gone. Sadly, by eleven-thirty we were all feeling weathered by the tiki bar experience and we were forced to surrender to bedtime.
Don't get me wrong, the night was not a waste. There was lots of howling laughter. We may have been drinking like amateurs, but we are seasoned professionals when is comes to having fun.
Tiki bar, you win. I'm out like trout.