I’d like to make a couple of Philly shoutouts before I post the whole sordid tale of my COPA trial experience.
To Ben: I love you. In a better world, we’d have been wondertwins fighting battles together far earlier: at the age of six, me jumping up and down on my soapbox, pigtails fearlessly flying, while you worked the crowd with your precocious logic into more passionate feelings on the care and feeding of goldfish, the dire need for good beer with school lunches, a turn on the slide for every kid in line before recess ends, and the need of all to have new, bouncy, shiny red sneakers (but not made in sweatshops). Having been denied that sunny Utopia, I’ll take what I can get.
There’s a return bottle of tequila waiting with your name on it for that visit in the Spring. And donuts.
To Elan: Thanks for the cigarette walks. And I won’t say I’m sorry for sharing that very filthy quip with you after all that bourbon, as I fully believe apologizing for sincerity is disingenuous. I will, however, apologize for making you unable to breathe or complete a sentence afterwards, as I did not anticipate those results.
To the other people on the plane the morning after: I’m really sorry. Most of our drinks the night before, well into the pre-dawn hour, were paid for by someone else. Thus, we could not possibly decline a single one, which — combined with my continued adrenaline rush, and the fourth night of very little sleep in a row — was likely why we nearly overslept our plane. This is also likely why we were not panicked as we raced to shove everything in the hotel room into our bags and get a cab without coffee, but instead could not stop laughing, because we were still as drunk when we woke up as we were when we went to sleep.
So, probably you didn’t find our jokes as hilarious as we did, and were not, as we were, launched into uncontrollable laughter by any given funny face we’d make at the other. If it’s any consolation, our jovialness was much more comfortable for us than the usual panic we both feel flying, and it was the best flight either of us has ever had. Probably that doesn’t console you. Probably we’ll forever be that awful drunk couple on the plane.
We’ve certainly been called worse.
To Moe: You seriously lucked out more than you know. Because in our morning still-drunken rush, I hollered out to Mark that I’d tossed his pants into my bag. Lucky for you, he hollered back that he already had his pants, which prevented me from accidentally stealing yours, leaving you to wake up in our room, hungover and pantsless, making a call to the hotel to the effect of, “Umm, room service? Could you send up some coffee, a bagel and…. pants?”
I know there were about 20 different things we were supposed to contact each other about once I got home, but I cannot recall what a single one of them was. If you do, let me know. Also? I so wasn’t a band geek. There aren’t bands in performing arts schools, silly girl. Performing arts schools, much like the arts community at large, are/were mainly run and managed by gay men who are much too kind to let any of us be caught dead in those awful outfits.
To Aaron: You’re a peach, kiddo. A peach who is the owner of something incredibly valuable (however weird a valuable thing it is), and you make sure that your wonderfully friendly, warm self does not let anyone think for even a moment that they can walk all over you. If they do, you tell me and I’ll beat them up. Or make them blush. Your call.
To the big, fluffy bed at the Residence Inn: I miss you. We didn’t get much sleep, it’s true, but you sure came in handy for very important pre and post-trial orgasms which I understand to be a required part of the legal process. It’s vital when about to stand up for Freedom of Speech to remember than “Oh god,” and “Fuck ME,” and “MmmmMmmmmMmmmAie!” is speech just as important to protect as something totally inconsequential like, say, sending the message that it’s really okay for people under 30 to have sex if they aren’t married.
November 8th, 2006 at 6:56 pm
I was flattered! And that “breathlessness” was just me working out the mechanics in my head.
Great to see you, H.