The fuse has burned out, and it's time for check-out.

Yes, Gentle Reader, we have done all we can do. It's time for us to head home, recall our tales of derring-do, and recant any testimony that put us at the scene of the crime. It's time to pack up our bags, load up our cars, and try not to weep as we leave our wonderful little womb in the rear-view mirror. There are usually a few dozen stragglers left behind... too determined to squeeze one more second of joy from the environment, but the hotel is typically a dry husk... and the search for nourishment is fruitless.

Unless you are Valis, and you're searching for nourishment in Rubberella panties.

But, as usual, I have cheated fate, and forged a new source of fun devoid of the dead dogs at the hotel. I have made plans to spend the night at my friend CircleK's house, and pay a visit to his lovely wife and witty son. So all these dead dogs around me are but scenery for the next act of my play. You see, I had no intention of returning to Huntsville when I had another day off... No, it was time to keep going... move foreward... whip it... whip it good.

But Jerry isn't getting home until around 9, so I spend some time watching the Con wind down and then go to the Highlander with some great folks for some tater tots and chili. Andrew ordered a bourbon and coke, and I was horribly tempted to join him, but it was still daylight, so I refrained. Instead, I wandered inside The Highlander and saw they had Black Tiger on one of those multi-game arcade machines. Nostalgia overwhelmed me, and I was forced to play. Later, after some really wonderful in-the-car conversation, we headed back to the hotel. Things were really winding down now, and I got to help the crew load up the remaining materials for the final evacuation. I was really excited to help, because I always end up feeling like I've gotten my Staff badge for way too little work. This gave me a chance to earn some keep... plus, it's the most time I got to spend with Bonnie, Beth, Chris, and T over the whole weekend... Good times. Manual labor has way too much of a bad rap. I recommend it.

So finally, I get the call and head to CK's. I spend about 2 hours catching him up on my life and discussing happiness philosophy with his lovely wife Katrina. I haven't gotten to see them since Halloween, so it was really nice to catch up. Sometimes, I feel like many of my best friends are a million miles away. It's always good to shorten that gap. Later, I got a wee-hour phone summons from Stacy to join her for a drink at the Highlander. I let the working stiffs head to bed, then went to join her at her own personal Mecca. Needless to say I got lost, so I arrived half an hour late and with sparks shooting out my ears.

We drank till we shut down the Highlander... then we moved onto the Trackside Tavern in Decatur (they're open till 4!). Once we got there, we started making all kinda of late-night friends, and we ended up shutting that place down as well. Who says you can't take it with you!?

Ah, the gorgeous girl and the bourbon and coke... It's like oreos and milk.

"Help us, Wes... we would rather turn around and talk to strangers than the guy in the beenie on the other side of our table!"

See! People LOVE IT when I take their picture! Look at all that love!

5am, I'm back at Jerry and Katrinas, and at 9:30 I hear the gentle rapping of a wake-up call.
Crap... now it's time to head back.

But first I had to visit with the cats... this is Marley.

And here is Janet and Tito investigating the newly opened window.
Jesus, they're cute together.

Ok... so that's it... The whole story, put together just for you fine people. There are details I've left out... some on purpose, other on accident... but you get the picture.

Good times... Good times....