End-of-semester party with English geeks.

Follow up:

Yesterday was the last class day of the semester. As there was to be an English department party immediately after class and I wanted to hang out with my classmates for a change, I drove to Denver instead of taking the Front Range Express from Monument (because the FREX's last southbound ride of the day leaves at 8:30pm),  and took the light rail/bus from there. Class was, as usual, awesome. I will miss my early Brit Lit class. Not only do I love love love the material, but the prof is just as in love with it as I am, and her excitement with it is contagious.

She gave us a few last pointers on our final paper (due Thursday next week, methinks), which we've all presumably already been working hard on for a couple of weeks. I mentioned that it sounds like she wants us to get some dirt under our scholarly fingernails for this one. She said yes. I said, "That sounds like fun. I can't wait to get started."

She said, "Hahahahaha...Funny joke."

Mmmmhm.

I've been around cadets for too long, I think. Anyway...I had two presentations this week in as many days, so my time has been usurped by prep for both and, of course, by a day or so of shameless procrastination. As of today, I attack my papers (I have three to write). The beauty of English courses is...NO FINALS. The problem is...FINAL PAPERS.

So last night, we (the English department and grad students) had a blowout. They do it right, too. They had a catered spread in a reception hall (something for everyone, regardless of dietary restrictions). They also had more beer and wine (good stuff, too--microbrews, Guinness, etc, and pinot noirs and such) than all of us could possibly drink, even if we were all alcoholics (and I estimate only about half of the department comes anywhere close).

And thus it was that I, along with a number of my colleagues and now, friends in the department, indulged. But before that, they had a group reading of the first volume of Tristram Shandy. I've heard of this novel, but never read it. It's pretty much one continuous joke, and the joke is frequently off-color, but stated in such a way as to make it amusing to polite society. I simply must read this book now. MUST.

So for about an hour (because they started the reading before our class finished), many of us sat and listened to a group of English teachers--professional readers--sit around in a parlor and read this aloud. It was awesome.

After this, they opened the floodgates so we could feed and water ourselves.

By the time we left, I'd made arrangements to stay with Laura (who, incidentally, will be graciously providing me a crash-pad--a very nice one, no less--next semester during my school week) that evening. Even after two hours on public transportation, I didn't think it would be wise to drive. And so it was that a clutch of us left the reception and went to a very small, classy, quiet, and reasonably priced (!) bar across the street.

Laura left around 10, I think. I'd already been to her house once, so I kinda knew how to get there. She's just off one of the main bus lines, so I was fairly confident that I'd be fine to get there unaided when I was ready to go. She promised to leave the door unlocked so I could get in.

Around 11 or a bit later, I decided it was time to go. Alex(andra) was leaving, and she made sure I got to the bus stop and on the right bus. She probably asked me to call her when I got to Laura's, and I probably said something to the effect that I didn't have her phone number. I'm fuzzy on this.

Once on the bus, I rode for a bit before realizing that the bus driver wasn't announcing the stops. I moved up next to him and asked him to tell me when we got to Emerson. He obliged me, and...there I was, bundled, treading in snow, and less than a quarter mile away from my bed for the night. I walked confidently up the road to the townhomes, and turned into the correct parking area, where it was very dark.

I knew which number I was after and kinda where it was, so I semi-confidently walked up to it, opened the back gate and pulled at the sliding glass door. It opened, and I stepped inside. A large black dog greeted me happily. I scratched it and we exchanged kisses*, and I thought for a moment, "That's strange. I remember Delta being a bit bigger."

* What!?

Anyway, I walked through the kitchen and stepped over one of those child-proofing gates people use to keep their dogs out of certain parts of the house, then I stood there in the living room looking around. It didn't look...right. This place had a fireplace which I didn't remember, and it had no stationary cycles, which I did remember. I stood there longer than I probably should have, then quietly stepped back over the gate, scratched the dog again, then slipped back out the door and gate.

I went up one more garage and was able to barely make out the number (in the dark) on the garages which indicated that I was now in the right place. I was greeted by the real Delta this time (who at a sleek 100 lbs, is almost twice the size of the dog I'd just befriended next door). I slipped off my boots in the kitchen (following the example there in the doorway), and tiptoed upstairs to my bedroom. I was asleep about 30 minutes later when Laura woke me saying someone was calling and texting her, and she didn't recognize the number. She'd have slept through it, but Delta had somehow answered her phone* (Blackberry) and she woke up to someone talking. Turns out, it was Alex making sure I made it "home" safely.

* If I could teach Maxx to do that, I'd be telemarketer-free.

I didn't sleep well, of course. I hadn't brought my meds. I finally got up around 9:30. Laura, as it turns out, was still home, under the weather. She got up long enough to apologize for being a poor hostess because she felt bad (pshaw!), and went back to bed.

I moseyed over to the library, picked up a couple of books for that paper, and meandered home. It was terrific fun, but now I'm tired, and it's time to get busy.

d