He's Holding It Together Pretty Well

Every minute that I've been in my apartment over the last couple of days, both locks on the front door have been locked. Last night at 3 AM, I had a pretty heated argument with myself on whether or not I could legally get bear traps and set them up near my windows. My unhealthy need for safety has nothing to do with a fear of burglars or roving psychopaths, but because at any moment, I expect my neighbors to burst into my apartment and beat the crap out of me. And let me tell you, that concern is totally legitimate after Saturday night.

I didn't end up getting any pictures of the various hootenanny-related activities, so let me just relate a brief, illustrative story. On Sunday morning, a few of us miraculously wake up. Since all the food in my house had been lit on fire or fed to rabid dogs the night before, we have to go out for breakfast. When we entered the restaurant, I could see all of the patrons frown and wonder, "Jesus, did they just escape from a POW camp?" It wasn't pretty. Not only did we smell like some sort of personification of the Austin sewer system, but the only conversation possible after the night before was a string of profanity and then a sigh. We were walking hate crimes against decency.

Breakfast itself was not easy, but we manage to pull through with nary an incident. I paid my bill first and stood around in the parking lot, waiting for the others to come out. A few seconds later, Frito bursts through the door and spits a mouthful of eggs out into the parking lot. My thought then wasn't "Boy, that was gross," or "Gee, I hope he's okay," but "Man, he's really holding it together pretty well." Compared to the rest of us, he definitely was. Thank God I only have two more months in which to avoid all of my neighbors, all of the time.