It's Saturday morning and I'm hanging out at Dave's and hanging in there. After arriving yesterday at about noon, napping, then heading out to dinner and a few drinks, I grew tired of Dave making fun of my "slits for eyes" so I turned in. I dropped an Ambien since I didn't want to wake up at 4am and be unable to go back to sleep. Well, they call it "hammer in a bottle" for a reason. I was out cold for 10 hours. Good stuff.
If you deem this post not up to my usual breathtaking standards of wit and charm, I've just given you many reasons to screw off.
This was all after the taxi driver I took from the airport couldn't find Dave's address. He dropped me off in the general vicinity but I was left to my own devices to find Dave's actual building, carrying both of my backpacks. Some of the area looked familiar from my (romantic) midnight stroll with Dave the last time I visited, but as I continued to search and dig up memories I found myself wondering "what happens if I can't find his place?" I don't have a working cell phone and I don't know Dave's cell number...do I just wait in one of the many bars here for Dave to come searching for me? Climb in another cab and hope they can do a better job finding the place? I decided my first plan would be to call Eric Strasser's cell and go from there. But, all of this was unnecessary as, using the crudely scribbled map Dave provided on the back of a business card I was able to do what the local cab driver couldn't: Find Dave's building.
So, here I am. It's almost noon and we're going to go out and eat some food, maybe jump in the pool, and see what happens.