When Friday finally rolled around I almost couldn’t contain my excitement. Papa and co arrived from the north around 4 and headed straight to the hotel. Brother arrived from the south around 6 and headed straight to my (horribly and embarrassingly messy) dorm. From there he used his newly acquired Legal Drinker status to load him and up with beer (a 24oz of Fosters and a 6-pack of Dale’s Pale Ale for him, a 6-pack of Rolling Rock and a 6-pack of Natty Green’s Guilford Golden Ale for Westchester and I to split, and a 6-pack of Heineken for Roomie-Dearest) for all the weekend’s festivities.
From there we returned to campus in time to meet Papa and co outside (he would not be seeing my dorm if I had anything to do about it) for dinner. We went to a design-your-own pizza place, where we caught up, ate too much bread, I saw a picture of Papa shooting Das Boot and began planning our summer vacation. (We’re thinking Paris during the Tour de France.)
After dinner I spent some time at a party at the Olds* with the Minimalist, Westchester and Hookar** before retiring to my bed, thoroughly exhausted and eagerly anticipating Saturday.
Why was I so excited about Saturday, you’re probably wondering?
It was going to be the perfect day, of course!
Why is that, you ask?
It was a men’s rugby day, not a men’s and women’s rugby day. This meant 1) I could watch the game with all my friends, 2) I could social with all my friends (and the social would be better since it was the only one) and 3) I wouldn’t have to explain to Papa why I wasn’t playing in the women’s game (I’ve decided to leave him out of the loop for now concerning my little breathing problems).
Before the game the fam and I hit up a little lunch shop that I’d been wanting to try for some nom-ables and Harris Teeter for a 12-pack of Yeungling bottles and Solo cups so we could have a classy family tailgate.
It was so silly to me to be drinking in public with Papa, especially since he knew it was against the rules at school and I was the one that suggested the beer. I guess I’m becoming an adult.
After the game (which we won) Papa and co returned to the hotel while Brother stayed behind for some good rugby-day festivities. First, though, we loaded up on good beer from my room. Why drink Busch when you don’t have to?
The social was great fun! Brother fit in nicely with my friends (and got to meet the Minimalist in a less formal environment, which I think is part of the reason they got along so great). He enjoyed the songs, saw 3 people shoot the boot and was thoroughly amused by the sustainable living-themed house the social was hosted at.
Before we knew it, it was 6 (reservations at 7) so I had to dash back, change into a pre-determined outfit, try to rid myself of the beer stench, grab the Minimalist and drive Brother’s car (he was too tipsy) downtown to meet the rest of our party for dinner.
This was it! All the weeks of planning and dreading; all my worries about big steps and how everyone would get along, it was all for this moment, when Papa opened the hotel door and they got to meet my man.
Luckily, everything went swimmingly. Hell, it was fucking perfect. Brother was feeling loose and thus able to keep the mood light. Papa and co was nice. The Minimalist was pleasant and charming. The food was great. And we even held hands as we walked through the hotel at the end of the night (he’s become surprisingly and wonderfully affectionate lately). Like I said…perfection.
Originally, Brother was supposed to return to campus with me to attend a bonfire spurred on by the perfect weather. But after a full day of drinking he was spent, so he stayed behind, much to the dismay of the Minimalist and his friends (who seemed to quite like Brother at the social).
Despite the weather being (relatively) amazing and no other known parties that night the bonfire wasn’t as much of a screaming success as they usually are. That was probably part of the reason that, come 1:30am when I was tired and my toe were numb and I said that I was going to head back to civilization and suggested to the Minimalist that he follow, he didn’t give me his usual reason for declining—that he, being one of the people throwing the bonfire, was responsible for cleaning up and putting out the fire at the end. This time he simply found another host to man the bar and together we stumbled down the dark, uneven path towards campus.
The perfect end to the perfect day—me curled up with the Minimalist in his warm bed watching Burn Notice as we fell asleep. I promise, we’re not an old married couple (despite the boringness of that statement).
My alarm sounded bright and early at 9:30, which gave me just enough time to dress, run to my room to switch shoes and grab my keys before heading off to meet the family for breakfast. Brother was hung over as shit. Sister displayed her horrible knife skills when trying to cut her pancakes (1-she’s 9, why can’t she use a knife? 2-pancakes covered in syrup are the easiest things to cut, they practically fall apart when you look at them wrong). And Papa expressed his very positive feelings about the Minimalist.
After our hearty breakfasts we exchanged hugs and went our separate ways. My way: meeting up with Westchester, Roomie-Dearest, the Pollock and Boy Scout*** for breakfast (I didn’t eat, but instead stole a bunch of food which later became my dinner), after which I returned to the Minimalist’s bed to share and “celebrate” (wink wink) the news of Papa’s complete lack of dislike towards him.
Like I said, the most amazing weekend ever thanks to:
My family
The Minimalist
60 degree weather
Hopefully, this euphoria will carry over through tomorrow. I can’t really see myself stepping down from cloud 9, 10, 11, 12…anytime soon.
**Hookar-a girl I’ve always been friendly with, but now that she no longer wants to transfer (and probably a couple of other reasons) we’ve been hanging out a lot more. She’s a bit of an acquired taste, but always fun.
***Boy Scout-a friend of the Pollock and Mr. Jackson. He’s a tennis player, a super-sweet guy, and a card-carrying member of the 6-pack club.
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