Partying with the Frat Boys

I rarely dream, yet the last few weeks my nights have been filled with vivid mental tapestries. Even more rare, I actually remember last nights foray into the arms of Morpheus.

I was going golfing with my daughter's boyfriend. We stopped to get some beer. Carrying this case of beer, for some reason we had to walk for several blocks to his fraternity house in order to ice down the beer. Some of his friends were razing me for being a Cubs fan. One in a Yankees cap, asked me who I would root for if not the Cubs. I remember telling him whoever was playing the Yankees.

We joked and cut up for several blocks and up the flight after flight of stairs in his fraternity house. I liked these guys, we were having a good time. The case of beer was getting very heavy by this time, but I did not want those young punks to know I was getting tired.

Finally, we get to the coolers and ice machine. I tear open the beer, only to find I somehow purchased root beer instead of real beer. As the brown A&W cans fell into the ice, I exclaimed "That is not beer, it is root beer." The guys hooted and laughed. "Yeah", they said, "We just thought you were some kind of old dork, or something."

It is pretty pathetic when you find you are a loser even in your dreams.