And so we met up in Hollywood at The Piano Bar for drinks, conversation, and really loud music.
From there we headed over to IO's for an improv comedy show. Two teams competed for a shiny, oversized belt - like the kind of belt I'd see on Saturday morning TV, when my brother would take over the remote and force me to watch WFF - World Wrestling Federation. Girls should not know the names Jake the Snake and Hulk Hogan, but because of my big brother, I do.
The improv show was decent, but the humor was plagued by a smelly, farting dog sitting in our row. I'm not sure how the man snuck the dog in through the doors; it was triple the size of one of those small, yelping dogs, and its farts were triple the smell of a normal human fart. It was bad, really bad. In fact, several of the guys in our row, nearest to the dog got up to leave after fart number 3.
The guys were graduates from Anderson University in Indiana, and they had worked at the same camp as us in Michigan - Spring Hill. Although they were a decade younger, we all "got" each other because we had all blobbed and slept in a tee pee.
Following the show we continued on to Dillon's, the pub we had met up at on Thursday. We joined a couple of his other friends for a round of french fries and Laffy Taffy jokes.
I'm not sure when I'll see him again, but I know I will. Some people are like that. It's never good bye, but rather, see you later. Although, I suspect this later, will be a bit longer - I'd put my money (if I had any) on 8 months.
And it's one more day up in the canyons
And it's one more night in Hollywood
If you think you might come to California
I think you should
(Na na na, etc. yeah) ~ Counting Crows