All My Rowdy Friends Have Settled Down—Mostly

Back in 1989, Sam always knew that Flatch was good for a bite of breakfast.

And the hang overs hurt more then they used to

And corn bread and ice tea took the place of pills and ninety-proof

—Hank Williams Jr.

Captain Flatulence, his wife, and their children came to visit us for the weekend. I have only had lunch with the captain once since X2 and I split. We used to be roommates, friends, and drinking buddies. Somehow, it is easy to slip into those old behaviors. Our abilities to consume beer in mass quantities were once on a similar level. Not so any more.

While I didn’t awaken this morning “with no way to hold my head that didn’t hurt,” (Can you tell that this friendship dates back to when PC stood for Progressive Country? Before personal computers or politically correct!) I was in no condition to get out of bed without my stomach churning and my eyeballs demanding shelter from the light storm. That after only a six pack—a quantity of Black and Tan deliciousness that we would have once called a light lunch.

So, we caught up on old times over brews after the rest of the crowd went to bed. The captain got up at his “normal” time of around 05:30, while I remained glued to the sheets until around 09:00. I was not fit company when I did manage to drag myself downstairs. We finally managed to go to the donut shop for breakfast, and they headed home around noonish, by which time I was starting to feel almost human.

Still I am grateful this week for old friends who remind me why I don’t do the things I did when I was younger. I am grateful for the sharing of families and the ability to talk politics and religion (or lack thereof) without having to self-censor or worry about repercussions. I have so much to be grateful for. Thanks for reminding me, Matt. Thanks for putting up with me, Suna.