Our Own Reality Show

Sometimes, I wish we could have our own private photographer just tagging along behind us and taking videos of us.  For example, last night.  As annoying as you were in your drunken stupor, Trevor (thank you for your apology – and, I did not realize at ALL that you had been drinking vodka), if we had been able to see it, after the fact, I think we would have laughed:

At the Jam:

Conchi:  we sing it in E;

Trevor:  E??  I don’t know if it’s E.

Conchi:  Yes, it’s in E.  That’s the key you said you wanted.

Trevor:  I did??  Why don’t you sing it in E?

Conchi:  No, I sing it in G.  E is your key

Mark:  are you two always at it this way?

Conchi:  Yes.  Always.

After Jam:

Sara (driving):  “Trevor, which way do I go?”

Trevor (sloshing drunkenly in the back seat):  “go straight, I’ll tell you”

Sara:  “which restaurant is it?”

Trevor:  “you’ll know when you see it.”

At the Restaurant:

Trevor:  weaving out of the restaurant toward the car

Conchi:  Sara, is he drunk, or is he operating on his other personality?

Sara:  Probably

At the Subway Station:

Trevor:  Trevor lifts guitar out of the back of the car and hands to Conchi

Conchi:  Takes one of the guitar case’s arm bands and puts her right arm through, and then swings guitar over her back to the left to engage her left arm into the second band, thereby obliviously hitting Trevor with the entire guitar

Trevor:  whacks the guitar back and away from him when the guitar hits him.
Conchi:  Attempts again to swing guitar into place and thread her left arm through second arm band., and hits Trevor with the guitar again.
Trevor:  Swats the guitar away again.

Conchi:  Swings guitar to her left to complete putting it on her back (hits Trevor with the guitar);

Trevor:  Swats the guitar away again

Conchi:  {“why is he doing that?  What’s wrong with him”}

This must have happened three times.  And not at any time did Trevor indicate that the guitar was hitting him.  I couldn't feel it hitting him, as the guitar is heavy and I was heaving it over my bag with vigor.  It wasn't until the next day when we spoke on the phone that I realized that you were actually sloshed from vodka.  I never saw you drinking it, so therefore didn't conceive of inebriation.  And, quite honestly, your contrariness and non-helpful directions to the restaurant were not that unusual.  Ha, ha.

Trevor:  “You’re hitting me with the guitar”