I'm on call again. Maybe at some point, we'll get to fill the two open spots we have on our team, and lighten the load for everyone. But for now I get my skull worked on every night, producing an alarming number of dreams in which I'm falling, or naked in high school.
I decided to chance the oncall thing on Friday night, as I felt like going and doing something. I met up with Nick, Anna, Jim, Derek, Angela, Jon, Colin, and Lorne at Harry's in Westport, where I was tapped to choose the next bar as I arrived. Unable to make such decisions without consulting my random number generator, I deferred to the quick-talkin' Nick, who suggested we go to the Brasserie, on the first floor of the Westin at Crown Center. After finishing a beer that cost nine dollars, I got paged. Paged so hard that I had to go home to resolve it.
I went home, worked some stuff out for which I wasn't really needed, and came back, not to be paged again. When I got back, the group had moved on to the lounge at Benton's, on the 20th floor of the same building. Derek broke a martini glass with his bare hand, and a jovial band played some vocal jazz music for us as we laughed, talked, and looked out over the city from our perch. Interestingly, the beer wasn't as expensive as at the Brasserie, 19 floors down.
After the bar closed at about midnight, we fell down the stairs to the first floor, where I wasted Anna in a footrace. The plan was to go to Skies, the revolving lounge on the 42nd floor of the nearby Hyatt, but nobody was down for it. Instead, we banged on a piano in the Westin's lobby while dancing and tumbling on the carpet for perhaps forty minutes before their mind-bogglingly patient security staff asked us to leave.
We went home, but couldn't go through the building anymore to get to our cars. Instead, we had to sprint through a torrential downpour past the fountains in front of the unlit entrance to the mall-like shopping center. Jim and I ran all the way to the overhang near Milano, unable to detect through the tumult of the impact of huge volumes of falling rain on the pavement all around us, that nobody had followed us, or at least had not kept up with us. We went inside, as we were everyone's ride, and agreed that we'd just drive up to them and pick them up.
Somehow, Derek had "fallen" into one of the fountains and had been submerged. Nick went in after him to "help." They were both absolutely sopping wet. As I write this I don't know if their phones are still functional. But whatever- we had a great time. I got home drenched enough for my taste, changed into dry clothes and passed an hour or so before going to bed.
I didn't do anything on Saturday or Sunday.