I met Joe at Panera Bread at Crossroads. I hate that shopping center — it’s not the main Crossroads Plaza one, but one of those that continue to sprout up on the other side of Walnut Street in that area. Congested! Congested! Congested!
We spent a couple of hours there, where we each had their Asiago Cheese Bagel with Reduced Fat Honey Walnut Cream Cheese, which we both love. And some coffee, of course.
At one point, I refilled Joe’s coffee for him, and when I shook the Splenda pack before opening it, it went flying out of my hand across the restaurant. Could have poked an eye out. Sweet.
I spent my entire time there, 2 – 3 hours, doing iTunes-related stuff, which included:
- deleting all podcasts already listened to
- downloading new podcasts from the feeds I’m subscribed to, which include 43 Folders, NPR Story of the Day, NPR Driveway Moments, The Discovery Channel, All in the Mind, Slate.com, Slate.com Explainer, and the Onion Radio News
- moved selected podcasts to playlists for continuous serial play
- creating three playlists for “homemade” CDs, and
- burning three CDs from the playlists.
Joe spent a lot of his time researching, and then booking, his flights home and back for Christmastime.
Dancing was fun tonight after a slow, slow start. I got there at just after 8:00, and even at 9:00, Chris (zinnian) and I were the only two dancers there.
Eventually, Carl, Bill, Geromy, Steven, Rob, and then Allan (with Joey) and Tony arrived, giving us a decent number of dancers, and we danced until 11:00, because it wasn’t that crowded.
The “porn star” was “lame” as usual, and I only saw him twice, from a distance. He seemed to spend a lot of time over in front of the cash register by the door area signing photographs of himself. He didn’t seem to be giving them to anyone, just signing them. Perhaps he was just looking at the pictures.
“Military Mary” was there, and he had a bunch of his medals pinned onto his shirt. I thanked him for his service.
After midnight, we went walking… over to CCs, where not much was happening. I stood by myself most of the time, at the end of the bar on the two-level side, and watched people on the dance floor.
At one point, I said hello to Roy, who I see there dancing all the time, but only recently (last Tuesday at the Holocaust survivor speaker event) learned his name, since he’s a very, very good friend of Myra’s.
Joe and I stopped at the IHOP on Hillsborough Street on the way home, where I ate half of a Ham & Three Cheese Omelet, and neither of us envied anyone working in there with regards to serving alcohol-imbibing bar-abandoned patrons.