It was cold. Really really frigid humid wet cold, not like the dry cold we were used to in the Rocky mtns. No ity was the kind of cold that penetrates your clothes right away.

Yet everybody kept stepping outside to use their cellphones.

Inside the bar everyone was smoking, it was thick.

The weren’t stepping out to smoke – they were stepping out to talk. It was exceptionnally ironic, in my eyes. ’cause it was so damn cold outside!!!

People were spitting a lot, too…. inside the bar – on the floor; at our feet. sometimes while speaking, in the middle of a sentence, they would stop, or pause, and spit a long dwindling hanging stringer – spit, watch it stretch out down to the floor before finishing their sentence.

But the girls were pretty cute, or hot lookin’, and there definitely seemed to be lots of potential for this adventure… Anyway we were the stars…