Mainly, do I attend one of three parties in Portland, or do I rent a car and attend one of two in Seattle?
After a long period of discussion between left and right lobes, I decided that Seattle was a no-go.
Checked locations and times of the last three. Hmm. One is out in the middle of bumfuck nowhere. Nah, I'll pass. One is put on by people I really don't know that well. Forget them. This one is relatively easy to get to, I know the people there... *reads the email* Free drink tickets? Score.
I head out. Before I even get on the train, there's this drunk wandering around the station. As the train pulls up, he wanders towards me.
And promptly horks.
Luckily, it just got on my pants. Not my severely awesome sheepskin bomber jacket, thank FSM, nor my shoes. Just the pants.
He, without a second thought or even acknowledgment, stumbles onto the train. I head home, toss the pants into the shower and hose them down. Once they're into the washer, I hop into the shower myself, doing double duty in cleaning the shower and myself at the same time.
I stayed home instead, taking it as a sign.