barbeque

Last Saturday, I was at a colleague's house for a barbeque. It happened to be only field personnel there except for our district manager and he only stopped by for a little bit while cruising around town on his Harley. (He has one of those with a skinny, little front tire and a big, fat rear tire. The general layout is like so, but his rear tire is much, much wider. If I ever remember, I'll take a picture for what we'll call posterity.) Not surprisingly, I was the only one who didn't drink though I was surprised to be the only non-smoker as well. Someone who I thought didn't smoke apparently does. Also not surprising, while it was late when I left, I would've had to stay much longer to have made it till the end.

Events like this remind me that I'm not a normally outgoing person. I do fine in social settings and largely avoid making an ass of myself. In fact, in the right setting, I'm lots of fun, or so I'm told. In the smoke and drink-enough-beer-to-make-me-wonder-how-everyone-managed-to-get-home setting, I'm a fish out of water. (For frequent readers with good memories, this is closely related with why the hype of going to Vegas is much more fun than actually going.) I was amused when I left and one of the guys asked me if I was ok to drive, so I asked him how many beers he had seen me drink.