The Night before Aruba

I've been away in Aruba for the week, and I plan on writing about that tomorrow. But I would like to share the happenings of the night before:

A few weeks ago, when a friend from college whom we affectionately "Crazy Pete" said that he was coming to visit Boston, I was happy that I would get to see him while he was in town, but a bit cautious, knowing that I had to catch an early flight to Aruba the next day for my cousin's wedding. Pete's uttering of the sentence, "I hope you don't miss your flight..." when we were discussing our plans didn't make me feel any more secure. Add to this the fact that this all fell on Friday 13th, as my close friend, Patrick, pointed out, and we reached a trifecta of "uh-oh" news.

The plan was to meet at Sam's at Louis Boston for drinks, and then see where the night would take us. I met Pete around 2:00 p.m., and by the time Andrea and Patrick came along, we were about three cocktails in. We shared an early and delicious dinner.

That night, I had plans to meet a few other friends to go see one of my favorite bands, Dear Leader on a boat cruise through Boston Harbor. Pete, Andrea and Pat went out to yet another dinner, and I left them to meet up with friends, Jeff, Scott, Marianne, Joy and Sean. Now, I've mentioned before that I have a great fear of boats. Luckily, that afternoon, Pete kept refilling my wine glass and the future boat excursion seemed less like an ominous boat ride on Friday the 13th and more like a ride on It's a Small World through rainbows and sunshine. The concert was excellent! While typically, at concerts, I stand at the back of the room, nodding my head in time with the music like a true emo kid all grown up, here I was, jumping up and down at the front, shout-singing along with the band. I'm sure they were cool with it. At one point, the boat was rocking back and forth and we all stumbled around for a minute or so. I found out later that it was because my friend, Marianne, had made her way to the helm and asked the captain if she could drive for a little while. I had always thought that it would be against some law or regulation to allow a booze cruise guest to drive the boat, but apparently, all you have to do is ask.

When we docked in Boston, I met up with Pete again. The original plan for me was to leave after the concert and go home and sleep, then wake up feeling refreshed with bees buzzing and birds singing, and leap to my car with my suitcase, head to the airport, jump on my plane, and jetset to Aruba. But, of course, as I'm sure Pete knew would happen all along, the best-laid plans of revelers and night owls...

Off we went to the North End to eat yet more food. We settled on Bricco and enjoyed a really delicious meal of shrimp scampi, octopus, and pumpkin tortelli. Finally, at 2 am, we headed home. We did hit a hiccup on the drive home, when we hit a sobriety checkpoint. Luckily, I had slowed down on the boat, and gorged myself on heavy Italian food, so I was fine to drive. However, I was thrown a curve ball when the officer asked if I was sober, "for the most part." How are you supposed to answer that question? A yes response implies that I am "for the most part" and a no response would be very very bad. My inherently sarcastic nature wanted to answer, "I'm not sure that you fully understand the purpose of a sobriety checkpoint." But, of course, I kept my mouth shut, smiled my answer at him, and he let us drive on.

As we stumbled into my apartment and the clock struck three, I turned to Pete and said, "I don't think I'll be making my flight." To which he responded, "How many dinners did I have tonight?" And that is the story of why I arrived in Aruba one day late. Stay tuned for Tales from the Trip.