My friend Hank made a brief appearance in Duluth on Monday night. I hadn't seen him in more than four years, which is pretty strange since for about 3 years of my life I was tormented by him daily. He is directly responsible for my move to Duluth. I no longer hold that against him.
He played his visit exactly right, not telling JCrew or me that he was in town until he was actually in town. This is a smart move, as we are both better off spontaneously adjusting our schedules than having a week to rue a looming commitment.
In a lot of ways, our conversation felt like JCrew and I were country cousins, and he was our exotic guest, telling us about a great large world beyond the Duluth border.
THINGS THAT DID NOT HAPPEN WHEN HANK WAS IN TOWN
1. He was not spotted wearing X-rated bikini running shorts.
2. He did not make love to a bar stool while listening to Prince on the juke box.
3. He did not make anyone cry. At least not on the outside.
4. He did not jet down East 2nd St. at 90 miles per hour while listening to Ry Cooder.
5. He did not ride his bike through the front door of the Pioneer, and straight through to a back table.
6. He perform any surface tension experiments with beer, covertly filling our mugs when we weren't looking.
7. He did not penetrate the soul of any of the females who were present, unleashing geysers of naval gazing juice.
8. He did not encourage us to have an afterbar sponsored by Hamburger Helper, then not show up.
9. He also did not sneak out in the night when we weren't looking.
He did make me drink beer on a Monday, which means I will be cursing him for the rest of the week.