it was finally time to leave this city. and when better then that night of nights when bad behaviour is the goal and anticlimax so often the result. to oxford, to oxfordshire, to ox-town. and so we went, chloe and i, to see sarah.
what a time. the two of us, puns* joined at the hip, and sarah our knight in shining armour. the best part was the impromptu day-glo dance party had over lentil and spinach burgers at the pub.
a few choice snippets from the night, most of them already related in mock horror, must be recorded here, for posterity, for amusement.
tom cruise from risky business leans into chloe, conspiratorially close, "i mean we all know nothing good has come out of germany in the last hundred years." silence and mouth agog on chloe's end.
tom goes on, "and i would never let my children by a VW anything."
chloe: "are you serious?"
tom: "definitely."
chloe: "and what are you studying again?"tom: "international relations."
me, outside, chatting up a tall, sturdy, very blond girl in a plaid shirt and a fur hat.
dch: "what are you supposed to be...a canadian?"
plaid: "no, ha, a lumber jack." [all this said with the thickest wisconsin accent imaginable. i couldn't plaee it, i had to ask.]
dch: so you're studying...?
plaid: war studies.
dch: [polite smile]
plaid: in fact i'm just on my two year leave [read rumspringa] i'm in the marine corps.
dch: [even more polite smile] wow, how's that?
plaid: well you know, academic life is great, but i kind of feel like i'm on vacation. i mean i really think that after this year, i'm gonna be ready to get back into the routine and hunker down. give 'em my twelve year tour of duty. i'm going to flight school.
dch: looks this girl in the eye, because honestly, i thought if i looked hard enough i could figure out what was missing. i was unsuccessful. i said, "i like your hat."
*white trash, and the "cereal" killer. if you were puzzling over it.
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