Blasts from the Pasts

Another St. Paddy's Day has come and gone and as usual it totally rocked. It is the one night of the year where you can talk to complete strangers and not have them look at you like you are trying to rob them. The one night of the year where complete strangers will buy you a pint and expect nothing back in return... God Bless the Irish...

Anyway, so it was fun. I ran into the Irish people from last year who were once again whooping it up, though this time sans my Wall-eyed Irishman who has long since been back in the Old Country. Phew. I was worried that I might have seen him, which would have greatly hindered my plans of hanging with the other Irish folk should they have been there... which they were... and so I did... hang with them... and then I went home... and went to bed... and got up the next day... and felt pretty good despite drinking my weight in Guinness (Guinnesses? Guinnessi?)... and not having eaten a damn thing all night... cut to Saturday night.

So, everyone remember my disappearing-reappearing Train Conductor right? Oh come on, sure you do. He's the one who writes me every few months or so:

Bea... Train Conductor... hope all is well... working lots... off this weekend... beers maybe...let me know if works... talk soon... Train Conductor.

And then I don't hear from him for about 2 months and then I get:

Bea... Train Conductor... hope you are well... not in town this weekend... beers next weekend... talk soon... Train Conductor.

etc... etc... etc... So that has been going on consistently since last August... last AUGUST people. And I kept playing along simply because I thought it was hilarious and because I have a sick sense of humour. I was trying to keep it going until August because if I was still getting emails like that a year after having only ever met him once, I was going to just howl because honestly... WTF?

Anyway, oddly enough he was really quite serious about getting together this time and I was like, whatever, I got nothing better going on and also, I really wanted to watch basketball on the weekend and watching it with someone else is always more fun AND he offered to pay for Chinese food, and ciders so when I added it all up, it came to like 30 points in favour of him coming over which I thought was a nice round number so I said what the hell, sure.

It was an interesting evening to say the least. He is not as good-looking as I remembered him to be... still cute, but in more of a Neville Longbottom kind of way... and it's funny because after the games were over he really, really wanted to watch Harry Potter so we did, and he reminded me so much of Neville Longbottom... you know... adorable but in a horribly dorky and awkward kind of way... that he is no longer Train Conductor in my mind anymore, he is Neville Longbottom and that he will remain for ever and all time.

We had fun... not THAT kind of fun...wink wink... but a good time nonetheless and despite getting the "I'll call you later in the week to see how your weekend is looking" standard goodbye if I actually GET that phone call I will be flabbergasted. However, throwing a monkey-wrench into the machinery that I am sure was to have us meeting again sometime mid-October-ish was the fact that he left his watch at my place. As a train conductor, one could assume that a watch is quite an important accessory, second only to the conductor's hat.

Gotta go... lots of work... will let everyone know if calls... Bea.


mollyblogger said...

Man, my memory sucks. I don't remember him being 'Neville Longbottom'-ish at all! Oh dear, oh my....

Glad you found your folk on friday (I'm currently experiencing alliteration overdrive, apparently). The Irish, I mean. Glad wall-eyed Irishman wasn't there (what a nightmare that would have been).

Beatrice Petty said...

Yes, I too was not expecting to see Neville Longbottom at the loft, but what's a girl to do?