In Indiana, as I assume is proper procedure in other states, things change. Like you think a girl is so dreamy and wonderful so you shun the world and watch the Disney Channel with her everyday after school. But one day, you break-up, and 4 years later, no one remembers who did the life-changing deed. Bam! Change! Then, you meet a lovely young woman, get hitched, and become happy (imagine that!).
Plans, plans, plans. Wooo! Last night, I was determined to play some tennis with the sometimes dysfunctional (with an emphasis on fun) tennis club. As my jeans were hitting the ground (my wife was at work), a dear old friend Frank called. I pause for a backstory.
Frank was in Away With Vega. I met Frank when I was a freshman in high school, he a freshman in college. He was cool. I was not. Away With Vega was, is, always will be my favorite band, big or small. Frank and I developed an odd friendship, the biggest small talk imaginable.
More backstory: Sara text me, saying "Frank is in Books-A-Million." I text Frank, creepily, "You are in Muncie. And weren't even going to tell me!" Ha. He responded better than he could have. A "so what" could have been appropriate.
Before I knew it, plans changed. Frank was on my couch, laughing about the Away With Vega poster on our living room wall. We reminisced about the good old days of "the scene," talked about his new album, and caught up from his time on the road (he drives a bus now) and my time in wedlock. Sara joined the fun. More talk about coffee and families. Deep stuff.
I didn't feel bad. Today, I would have leaked, along with the mucus from my nose, all of the regrets of missing a chance to see a dear friend. Frank and I might not be best friends, but he is still Away With Vega Frank to me. And, you know, things change.