Now the people there were dressed in their playa dress and it seemed that faux fur was the dress of success. There were long coats that were purple and shaggy with a matching hat. There was a girl there, a very tall girl there, that was in a body stocking with a little purple shiny bikini on over the top of it. She had on a feather hat that was shaped like an old top hat. There were a lot of top hats around the bar and you could tell who had been to the Man and who was a friend of someone that had been to the Man. There were also a lot of goggles and bare chests. At least male bare chests.
As I was standing there drinking water and trying to tell if I had sobered up from my meager two drinks, after the belly dancing if the acid wasn’t tickling your cerebral cortex the night was somewhat dull, a dude shambled up to the bar and offered to rochambeau for a drink. Best two out of three. So I threw out a scissor, a paper, and a scissor and another captain and coke came my way. I hope I see him on the playa so I can return the favor or at least get the dude loaded. So I drank the drink and had two more waters and after about an hour we went the long road back to the house of duder.
We went in and his woman said “You’re not supposed to be home yet!” She was right, but after we described the fun she understood and that was that.
Due to her, my buddies woman, insomnia I was up till at least five in the morning chatting. Ghosts, haunted houses, and craftiness were the main topics of conversation. I think we also covered cesarean birth and ovary pain. Lots and lots and lots of chatter until the pass out stage had been met. I ended up passing out on their floor in my sleeping bag on a blow up bed she had put up for me and I dreamed of playa times and half naked women.
