I leave for Boston in the morning, to catch up with my old buddy Jude and, incidentally, also hit another conference for work. I've been having terrible dreams for the last few days--my raver days ended because of an unfortunately well-aimed bullet to the forehead of a friend, and one of the guys that died on Saturday was an acquaintance of mine, and it's all just mashed up in my head. I'm jumping at every little noise, triple-checking that my door is locked. If we were still thirteen I'd be having a slumber party, and I might still anyway.
I've been unbearably excited about this trip for days, because hanging out with Jude will be a little bit like coming home. I miss the Flagler kids in dramatic, nonsensical ways. There will be much drinking and incessant nostalgia, so if you're in a bar in Boston over the next few days and you hear things like, "Hey, do you remember when Jesse set your face on fire?" you'll know it's us. Also, sightseeing, because I do love playing tourist.
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