Living Vicariously

Do you ever feel that life is mundane? That you are stuck in a rut. I don't usually feel that way - in fact I love my life - and virtually all of the wonderful persons in my life. However, once in awhile - just to keep it interesting I like to live vicariously. So, let me tell you about a really awesome party that I never actually attended. Perhaps, with a few historical revisions, MY party might even be better than THE party. This is cool. I can still make this the best party I have never attended.

I heard this killer story about my friends party - I of course would have attended, had I not been trapped aboard my chartered Lear (sp? - does it matter, its VICARIOUS dude) jet somewhere over the Bahamas. You see, the day before, while sipping Martinis and telling hilarious 100% true tall-tales with the pilots (all former Gulf War aces, of course) we had drifted somewhat off course and been forced to lay-over in a miserable little all-inclusive resort on Saint Croix. Anyway, back to the facts; as I was waylaid by these unfortunate circumstances, this fabby party was going on in glorious Portland. BTW, Portland IS the place I call home, and not just because I live there. It is also the most wonderful, balanced, fiscally sound, and morally upstanding city in the world. Swear (here). The city is so free from crime, and corruption that babies are able to crawl about willy-nilly and people just stop their cars and mill about while waiting for them to cross; filling the time laughing and telling stories about how great their 401K is doing and how much they appreciate the new iTax that has been implemented to save the city from the great evil of extra money that otherwise would have been spent on our own, well contained, completely deniable, selfishness that never hurts anyone else anyway (sheesh). Oh, - and there is no stress in Portland, because we have all been liberated and everyone is allowed a 90% flextime work schedule.

Wow, completely off track and where did the focus go anyway? Back to the point: the story of the party. There I am flying over all those pitiful souls trapped in the Bermuda triangle (why anyone would travel by boat after all those Ripley's Believe it or Not Documentaries have so firmly established what goes on there is just beyond me) missing this out-of-this-world mojito (pronounced with a hard ‘j’ of course – everyone who has ever studied Spanish knows this) party. To sum it up, there was drinking of Mojitos, dancing, running around in the mud, squishing mud between toes, and a 3 person re-enactment of that one Pearl Jam concert where everybody got muddy and the only description they could come up with was VS. – that’s not even a whole word.

A.G.