This past weekend, I ended up on a plane with an old friend. He and I knew each other at BYU, and we've run into each other a few times since then. My favorite part was that we even worked it so that we could sit next to each other--both there and back again. Good times were had by all.
Anywhos, this friend decided he was done with accounting (and I frankly don't blame him), so he's off to Harvard to dress from J. Crew and look important while taking business classes. Which means he's having a going away party, which I made him promise to invite me too. Sure enough, last night I got a text from him. Party, his house, 7 p.m. blah blah blah. I had to text back to get his address, which he readily supplied with a "See you soon!"
So I finish dinner and head out. After working my way past the street fair, I find a really good parking spot and walk up to the door. Odd, I think. The house looks strangely empty. I open the door and say, "Hey man, happening party."
"Well, it's on Friday."
Huh?
I dig out my phone and actually read the text message. Sure enough, it says Friday night, not tonight.
My friend, gentleman that he is, invited me in anyway and we had a grand time wandering the street fair (though we didn't see the possum that lives in the creepy store front) and watching American Idol.
Oops.
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