trip
04 Apr 2005We are back from a weekend expedition to Tampa, where we attended the wedding of my friend Cubes. Lots of food and beer and merrymaking.
I am hoping someone else took pictures, because all I managed to snag was a mid-beer moment by the pool in which I appear to have captured the sun exploding and at the wedding, a horse, for some reason.
A highlight of the trip included a visit to a bar in Clearwater called New York, New York. Despite being in Clearwater, Aram assured me it was the spitting image of New York – the neon lights, the leather-skinned retirees, the dollar drafts. They even had a dress code – after all, you can’t just wear anything in New York, you know. I think I saw Woody Allen in the back.
Then, when we got to Nashville, we returned home to find two rooms in our apartment without power and no hot water. Oh, and a dead possum in my trash. Nothing says “welcome home” after 12 hours of driving like a dead marsupial.
I love living in the south.
UPDATE: Perhaps this is where the possum came from?
In all seriousness, if you live down the street from the Red Door Saloon, the possum in your trash can was probably the possum picture on TNF. It did not die by my hand, though, unless shrieks of surprise and terror kill possums.