Friday night, sitting in a coffeehouse with friends while Charlie plays a solo guitar set in the corner. He finishes with a flourish on his beautiful acoustic guitar, and we all turn and clap for him. It brings back strong, strong memories of the many Friday evening concerts in high school. Even the people are the same: the usual suspects from Purdue attend, and a few people like Laura drive up from elsewhere.
We help Charlie pack up his equipment after he finishes his set, then we all walk across the street to a bar— an 18-and-over hookah bar, to be precise*. Dimly lit and decorated in Indian velvet and sculpted bronze, the place looks like a small back room of a sheik's palace. Stuart and Matt befriend a waiter and order two hookahs for the table. Soon the fragrance of the flavored tobacco surrounds us. About half of those at table partake in the hookahs while Laura, me, and a few others enjoy fruit drinks and the atmosphere instead.
From the bar we migrate over to Michael, Stuart, Chris, and Josh's apartment where much hilarity ensues**.
* I really debated whether or not to write about going to a tobacco bar last Friday. After all, my parents, grandmother, previous employers and who knows who else read this weblog. However, I feel I would have been censoring myself and changing the entire flavor of the evening had I not mentioned it. It was a fun, completely legal gettogether with friends in an interesting environment. What am I worried about?
** I debated even harder about posting this picture of Matt breathing fire. Yes, it's unbelievably dangerous and it probably could have sparked (HA!) the ire of the Fire Marshall, but c'mon! Isn't that an awesome picture?