Drinking on Sunday night

During the summer, drinking on Sunday night was expected. It wasn't the end of the weekend, it was the beginning of a sun-filled week. It was easier then. Or so it seemed. I had a crush. Tia was on summer vacation. It stayed light out late. And so, Sunday night drinks (sessions of debauchery) were the norm. But the crush ended (I say we broke up. He has no idea about any of this.) and I stayed out of the bar. School started for Tia, the nights got shorter and colder and although I have the urge, I haven't been to a bar on a Sunday night in well over two months. Until tonight.

I went to a Harvest Festival Dinner and season wrap up for a local farmers market. A dear friend of mine manages it and is "retiring" to be become a yoga teacher and travel in Mexico. The dinner was a potluck made up of a gold mine of local and seasonal foods made by market volunteers and vendors. DE-LICIOUS! The invitation clearly stated, "Please do not bring alcohol" but one brave soul brought champagne. I refrained, which is odd, because usually if I see that on an invitation I bring my flask but tonight felt different. This was a going away party. This was not a time for flasks. Until I started talking with the folk at my table who asked, "You're coming for drinks with us afterwards, right?" Who am I to deny these folks my presence. After a short discussion of the closest (see: diviest) bars in the area we agreed on a local brewery known for its kid-friendly atmosphere. Which usually isn't a quality I look for in a bar but kid free=smoke free and that was the direction we were headed.

I arrived with the first group and decided to take care of my carpool business before I got down to real business. I ordered a Makers (neat) and excused myself from the table to call Ben, who had not responded to my text earlier. We were chatting, catching up and planning our Monday morning carpool extravaganza and I was wandering around looking for a quieter place when I wandered into a back room. I looked over and saw Tyson. Tyson-T.Y.-Tyson Grul in Portland. I looked again. Then I saw Gabe and Peter and knew it had to be him. Holy shit. My head exploded a little bit and poor Ben lost me on the phone conversation. I am still unsure of the details of tomorrow's carpool. I guess I will find out soon enough.

I went over to chat with T.Y. and company. Still a little stunned that the place where I am least likely to be (a kid-friendly brewpub in NE Portland on a Sunday night) somehow produces a sweet, sweet surprise of running into T.Y.. Still can't believe it. And to top it off, he was there with his girlfriend/wife (I didn't get the story) and his BABY!!! Tyson used to date my friend Jess. They partied together. Hard. During a time when there were no babies. The last time I saw Tyson in Portland was a very, very drunk time for me. More than usual. There were two "puke and rallies" and a dance-off involved. Needless to say, when I walked in the pub tonight I was not expecting to see Tyson. I can't wait to catch up when we have drinks Tuesday night.

All of this excitement makes me sort of want to hang out at bars on Sunday nights again. I even went to my old haunt. Summer made it shine in a different light. I'm a little disappointed I actually went there but super proud that I walked in, walked up to the bar and decided to leave WITHOUT HAVING A DRINK. What a fascinating Sunday!