Yesterday was a surreal day. How was it that I could spend the early afternoon in my wage-slave job, and the evening in the company of, literally, some of the richest people in town?
I've written before about the local power couple (call them BOBO_S and BOBO_E) who served basically as E's benefactors when she first moved here. These are the types of people who hand out bottles of wine to people the same way you'd loan someone a pen. And, I don't mean a bottle of Boone's Farm Strawberry Hill -- I'm talking about $20+ bottles of Charles Krug and stuff. They're also one of the 5 or so Republicans in this town, too.
Anyway, I'm leaving work and as usual, I find a voice mail message from E, saying that she's hanging out with them at the local uptown swanky if-you-have-to-ask-how-much-it-costs-you-probably-can't-afford-it restaurant. Luckily, I put on my best metroerotic face (and hair, and shirt) before I got there, because what E didn't tell me was that I'd be, in essence, crashing the birthday party for the Dean of Students of the University. You see my confusion. "Can I help you with that?" in the morning. "Oh, ok, one more glass of chianti" that evening.
After the restaurant, we all (Dean included) head to a local bar where we meet another power couple -- a couple my age, this time, buying everyone drinks. Did I mention that of the volumes I consumed, I didn't pay a single penny? After the bar, we head back to the BOBOs' house where I continued the hobknobbing. E went home a bit before this point, as she has to be in Columbus today. But I hung out and was graciously offered pizza and more alcohol (they're lushes, they admit it) and conversation with accountants, college deans, and upscale-hotel executives who were my age.
That couple was funny. It's sort of wierd seeing people my age do (apparently) financially well -- good jobs, three acre spreads, money to buy drinks for total strangers. But to look at them, they didn't look my age. Granted, I look young for my age, but I wouldn't have pegged these people for 30. Thirty-five to 40 would've been more like it. Makes you think about the prices you pay to attain things like that. Things like 85-hour work weeks and such. To each his own, I suppose...
I've written before about the local power couple (call them BOBO_S and BOBO_E) who served basically as E's benefactors when she first moved here. These are the types of people who hand out bottles of wine to people the same way you'd loan someone a pen. And, I don't mean a bottle of Boone's Farm Strawberry Hill -- I'm talking about $20+ bottles of Charles Krug and stuff. They're also one of the 5 or so Republicans in this town, too.
Anyway, I'm leaving work and as usual, I find a voice mail message from E, saying that she's hanging out with them at the local uptown swanky if-you-have-to-ask-how-much-it-costs-you-probably-can't-afford-it restaurant. Luckily, I put on my best metroerotic face (and hair, and shirt) before I got there, because what E didn't tell me was that I'd be, in essence, crashing the birthday party for the Dean of Students of the University. You see my confusion. "Can I help you with that?" in the morning. "Oh, ok, one more glass of chianti" that evening.
After the restaurant, we all (Dean included) head to a local bar where we meet another power couple -- a couple my age, this time, buying everyone drinks. Did I mention that of the volumes I consumed, I didn't pay a single penny? After the bar, we head back to the BOBOs' house where I continued the hobknobbing. E went home a bit before this point, as she has to be in Columbus today. But I hung out and was graciously offered pizza and more alcohol (they're lushes, they admit it) and conversation with accountants, college deans, and upscale-hotel executives who were my age.
That couple was funny. It's sort of wierd seeing people my age do (apparently) financially well -- good jobs, three acre spreads, money to buy drinks for total strangers. But to look at them, they didn't look my age. Granted, I look young for my age, but I wouldn't have pegged these people for 30. Thirty-five to 40 would've been more like it. Makes you think about the prices you pay to attain things like that. Things like 85-hour work weeks and such. To each his own, I suppose...
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