Luck strikes at the Ottobar; Friends I knew

You're at a smoky bar, seated on a simple bench by a wall, facing a band on a stage. Most of the patrons have already left for the night -- the second band obviously had the biggest following, and though the twenty-somethings had stuck around for the stunt, they weren't there for the music, really. You're bobbing your head to the beat and smiling to yourself about some clever lyrics when a girl walks by, turns to face you, and shows you a compact disc. By reflex, you put out your hand, experiencing an anachronistic moment like being sold something by a street hawker in China, maybe Spain. She again proffers it toward your hand and you hesitate, then accept, watching her walk out to the street, maybe to get a smoke, maybe on her way out. You wonder if you've just agreed to hold it for her or even to buy it, without really being able to hear over the poppy guitars, but she doesn't return. On second glance, the CD itself is something of a miracle - it's the new one, by that band you heard on the radio that you've been meaning to check out, just hadn't gotten around to yet.


That was my Friday night; and many of those patrons were kids from my high school home on break and in need of something to do. It's been absolutely awesome to be able to catch up with so many people after returning to the area and trying to re-establish some kind of network. Many of them have been people I only vaguely knew, but some of them are old friends cast aside that have been renewed under more mature, reciprocating circumstances. I'll just call it an unexpected benefit of having graduated and returned to living at home.