general fuzz

Musing from a obsessive computer music composer with hippie-ish tendencies.

Sunday, July 02, 2006

Extreme Pool

Last night, we continued the several day celebration which is our second wedding anniversary (which is actually July 3rd). I'm psyched that my brother has moved back to Boston. It enabled both familys in their entirety to go out for Dinner together last night.

I was able to eat more seafood. I was shocked when my brother ordered a shrimp appetizer. As far I knew, nor him nor my wife ate seafood. Nor, I say. Twice. He pointed out that there was lots of garlic on his plate, which I surmised acts as a prime enabler for him. I pointed out that the garlic was dwarfed by the enormous pieces of shrimp. In the end, I was happy to eat some. Which is neither here nor there. Yes, be prepared for serious digression. Welcome to stream of thoughtville. Population: you. Or: me. Its unclear.

Anyhow, post dinner everyone went back to their suburb. Except me, because I can now hang with my Brother in Boston. Which I don't think I've ever really done. Sadly, growing up in a suburb 10 mins for Boston, I've never really went in to Boston for an evening out. So here we are, in the middle of the North End, which is rockin', and I suggest we go shoot pool. We amble over to "Racks" near Faneuil Hall. There's a 5 dollar cover. In the interests of instant gratification and the fact that we are already there, we pay 5 dollars. Turns out to be a bit more then a pool hall - its a club. Their distinction from other clubs is that they have maybe 15 pool tables. We ask for table. Their all full. I want to be put on a list. There is no list. You just have to hang out and wait. Fine. I get some drinks, go to the bathroom. On the way back from the shitter I see someone about to return their balls. Thats right, I said balls. So I follow said duder, and speak with the lady about getting a table. No problem. Then she asks me to sign this waiver: so if a celebrity comes by, they have the right to knock us off the table. Okaaaaaaay. Whatever. I want to shoot pool.

We get this table which is near a bunch of upscale booths. They are playing some loud ass R & B. Thankfully, I have my magical ear plugs. At one end of the table, you look directly towards the dance floor. Which has a fancy light setup, complete with strobes and spinning lights, rendering me somewhat blind. As I continue to shoot some of the worst pool of my life, people start to fill up theses booths. Then people gather near the booth people on the floor. Right in the way of our pool game. My brother thinks people are checking me out - I look so out of place in this club, that people figure I must be a celebrity.

Two drinks later, we are absolutely done. We return our balls, and the lady gives my brother back his credit card. She says she didn't charge him. Wow. That was unexpected, and made the whole experience much more worth while.


Blogger PVision said...

You = Funny Mother Fucker.

11:36 AM  

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