Booty Vortex, Geek Vortex

On Friday night, after a shitty 6 hour bus ride up to Boston, Honeychild, her husband, and I went to a local pub to see Georgia Overdrive, who "play the best (and some of the worst) classic country from Merle Haggard and Johnny Cash to Glenn Campbell and Johnny Paycheck, paying homage to the great songs and artists of country music songs about truck drivin', heartache, and Pabst Blue Ribbon beer".

(By the way, Honeychild's husband has a new moniker, and shall heretofore be referred to as 'Big Daddy', at least for the purposes of this blog).

The band was really entertaining, and we amused ourselves further by looking over the other bar patrons and attempting to figure out if they had been there since happy hour (in most cases, it was readily obvious: eyes at half-mast, rumpled business attire, stumbling). The bar was very crowded when we arrived at 10, then cleared out around midnight (most celebrants left to pass out, or vomit, or both). Around 1:30, Honeychild and I were sitting at the back of the bar, while Big Daddy was off performing his unofficial social duties as the mayor of Davis/Porter Square, and the bar got super crowded again, with people stopping by on their way home from somewhere else. We were still listening to the band (and I was hoping for an introduction to the lead singer) when we found ourselves surrounded by a whole new cast of characters.

These boys were very drunk, slightly geeky, trying to hook up, and not at all subtle about any of it. We named some of the more interesting contenders: Samurai Lumberjack (ponytail on the top of his head, beard), The Lizard (platinum-dyed hair, disturbing stare), Mr. Clean (bald), Striped Shirt Guy (um, striped shirt, bad sandals). A few approached, and we did our best to rebuff kindly. I got trapped in a conversation with The Russian, who told me that I had 'big eyes' and that I reminded him of his 10th grade math teacher, whom he wanted to 'bang'. Honeychild was accosted by Mr. Clean, who walked up, kissed her hand and then stood there and said nothing. Most of them just stared at us, and there might have been some winking or smiling. Hard to tell through the laughter.

After enduring about 10 minutes of this, we spotted Big Daddy talking to the band, and we escaped the vortex to hang with them. Which was infinitely better.