Dinner Party

Here's the thing, I speak and write the Queens English fluently, I have a few degrees on hand, tend to dress respectably (on occasion), take interest in the fine arts, history and it's because of these things, people often mistake me for cultured. (I know right.......pfft.)  

In all honesty, my calling is closer to that of wajang, bacchanalist even, clearly not fit for high society. I'm the guy on stage in a fete, doing things we'd rather not speak of, the cacahole shouting "WOI" when a Benjai comes on. 

So imagine my discomfort when asked to attend a formal dinner party. The invite said "swanky, candle-lit affair," no liquor of any kind.....wine only, dress code: dinner-wear, pants/slacks, button downs and loafers. Menu items to include light hor d'oeuvres, exotic cheeses (gouda, etc), fruit plates, gourmet chips with salmon-flavoured cream cheese, oven-roasted herbed salmon with spanish rice, hand-made jalapeno sliders on artisan bread with chipotle mayo.......what, no pelau? 

Sure we had fun, sort of in the way senna could be "fun." But in all honestly, I really started enjoying myself when someone slipped the Grey Goose from a pants leg then threw on some Private Ryan. 

I've come to realize that I have no place in polite, civilized society, but I clearly don't fit into the hood crowd either. Go figure. I think I'll stick to the "grown and sexy" vibe going forward though, it's business casual meets dress to impress, polite company meets youthful exuberance, but most importantly, people not afraid to get a little sweaty. 

Peace

 

Miami Carnival

So Miami Carnival was a week ago........I didn't go.

Moving on

I ended up instead in a little place just south of the GA border called Tallahassee, FL. Tallahassee is a special place for me as I tend to gravitate towards the town whenever I am going through personal problems. I really should move there now that I think about it.

As you often hear people say, it's not the destination that's important, but the journey you undertake to get there.

Each time I make this drive, I take a non-typical route that takes me through the back-country of southwest Georgia rather than the well-traveled route south on the I-75. My route has the added benefit of  killing any hope for a cell phone signal for nearly two hours straight. This is the part I enjoy the most; two hours to just sit and ponder my own existence, my choices in life, where I'm going, where I've come from, etc etc.

Of course I think there's the added thrill of that sense of danger, where if I blow a tyre or roll the car in a ditch (God forbid), I'm screwed.

For it to be the capital of the State of Florida, Tallahassee is a completely dead city. Nothing fun ever seems to happen in that place, ever. If it weren't for FAMU and FSU's campuses, I'm not sure the city would even have a purpose. But this trip was different, the little airport down there hosted an airshow, which so happened to be my son's first. Judging from who his father is, it's not likely to be his last airshow either.

I think the little rascal enjoyed himself but the significance of the event was lost on him once he spotted the kids play area.

Sigh

After that he couldn't give two shits about those damn planes. What's that? Men jumping out of planes? Meh.........bounce house? AWESOME!!!