What was looking to be a slow weekend changed instantly with the result of a text message.
"You willing to be kidnapped?"
Not sure how you can call it abduction when I'll go willingly.
Eli and Tracy pick me up for a picnic in the park. Promising good food, which they delivered on, I agreed it would be fun. We sat around and drank wine in public effectively giving the law the finger.
Having decided we hadn't had enough to drink we head to a pub that claims to be Irish, but it's about as Celtic as Taco Bell is Mexican. We sat and ordered our drinks, but were blindsided by an announcement from a hippie lady who took up the mic. She told everyone that we were to be entertained by belly dancers.
Stay with me folks. Belly dancers. At an Irish Pub. In Renton.
Okay that must be as surreal to read as it was to write.
The hippie woman was belting out the tunes on a synthesizer while accompanied by a bongo drum. The music was ok, but belly dancing music always makes me start to hum 'There's a Place in France where the Naked Lady Stands.'
Wait. Is there another title for that song?
After a nice cup of jo we decided to partake in a common activity of older mature adults. We went to play miniature golf. With a nice bit of alcohol flowing in our bloodstream we were enjoying the game until Eli took a spectacular spill on the turf. Taking it in good humor she laughed along with us, but it did end up hurting her wrist. It was the first time I ever witnessed a mini-golf injury.
We then purchased some frozen peas and came home to play some Trivial Pursuit and Guitar Hero Metallica. To top off the evening we watched some quality television and that was flipping between Rock of Love and Roadhouse. It couldn't be more white trash fun if we had a deep fryer and a bathroom meth lab.
I like being kidnapped.
"The way to screw up somebody's life is to give them what they want." - Patrick Swayze