Columbus Day!

For those of you who don't know (ie. Me)

Columbus Day is a holiday celebrating the anniversary of the October 12, 1492 arrival of Christopher Columbus to the Americas.

Or, in other words... nobody really goes to work and everyone has a day off and most things are closed. I caught up with a lot of sleep, as after that stint in SFO I was feeling mostly beat. I spoke to Justin, one of the sysadmins at the FSF and agreed to meet up at 4pm in my hotel lobby.

Making the most of my day of American heritage, I left the hotel and walked over 100 metres the the 7/11 and got a Double Gulp of Mountain Dew, some Cheetos and a microwaved bean and 'cheese' burrito. Man, America rules.

Later, met up with Brett, Ward, Ward's wife and baby, Justin, Josh and Justin from the FSF, and went for drinks across from my hotel. American bars are so much friendlier than most British places and table service is just so easier.

Dinner at Cambridge One in Harvard, which is pronounced Hahvahd. This involved taking the Red Line T from Park Street (Pahk Street) to Hahvahd. It's very quick, reasonably clean and I didn't see any crazy people. Met up with Mako, Daf and Asheesh, plus assorted other people who were hanging out from the GNOME summit. Later attempted with a few random people, plus Brett and Asheesh to locate Elizabeth, who never showed up. But I managed to eat again, which made up for it.

Got back to the hotel in time to grab a Big Gulp and head back to watch King of the Hill, and a lot of stupid commercials.

Running tally of Mountain Dew consumed: 4300ml.

Boston!

Okay, so after suffering the nightmare of having a plane take off on time, get above San Francisco and then have to land again because 'there is a hole in the door', and then waiting around 7 hours to get the next plane, being promised an upgrade and not getting one and thereby arriving in Boston too late to make the dinner you'd been hoping to go to for about 2 years, I checked into my hotel and fell asleep.

From what I've seen so far, Boston is nice.

Running tally of Mountain Dew consumed: 2400ml.

Matt and Nick arrived at The Clockface. It was a fairly standard town centre nightclub, but had a few things going for it... they didn't make you dress like a wanker and they would occasionally play They Might Be Giants records on request.

"So", said Matt, "It starts to make sense now, right?"

"Kind of", replied Nick, lying to himself. "You've narrowed it down to one of three pubs in the city centre, or five if I hit the suburbs?"

Nick rang Ben. Ben could see it was Nick calling, and Ben was with a girl.

"Nick! Stop calling me, you fucking crackhead."

"I'll assume you're with a girl and thus play along. Put me on speakerphone"

One can of lager, a quiche, one of those ghastly all-day breakfasts in tins and a change of trousers later, Nick started trying to piece all this together. Had he been out? Was he still out? Was this the dream? Why all the flashbacks? Should he call Rachel? Should he call Matt? Where was Ben in all of this? Would Ben know who the fuck that girl was? Why did he keep pissing himself? Where had all the gin gone? But mainly, why the fuck had he eaten one of those ghastly all-day breakfasts in tins?

Outside the flat was odd - with each step, Nick began to remember coming home. He could vaguely recall falling up the steps, knocking over the plant pot and dropping his keys into a puddle. For the bits he couldn't remember, there was a helpful trail of kebab-shop-salad and chips, and for the bits he hadn't managed to map out, there was always the lingering smell of piss to guide him. For a full minute, he stopped and pondered the notion that primitive pissheads had used a similar system to find their way home. Half way into the minute, the smell became overbearing and he correctly predicted that he would be sick into the garbage chute.