Ed had been telling me for months that I should meet him at Madam’s Organ on Wednesdays for their bluegrass show, but this is the first week I actually took him up on it. It helped that Ricky was in town (despite the fact that he got sick and couldn’t come) and that Andy, Will, and Schmitty were also going - I’m a sucker for peer pressure.

That place is pretty great. Bob Perilla & the Big Hillbilly Bluegrass Band was playing - not half bad - and the crowd was just my type. I spent most of the evening chatting with Alicia, a Native American, and Storm, a half-American, half-Jamaican guy from London, with whom I argued about David Beckham, the ridiculous taxes on tea, and whether or not he was more Irish than I because he spent a few months living in Dublin. There was also a cute little redhead who kept scampering about - Schmitty and I agreed that ‘scamper’ was a good word for her - but I forget her name. She stopped to chat at one point, and I told her that she was like a very small tornado. She took it as a compliment.

On the walk back to the Metro, I was telling Schmitty how friendly people around here could be, and in the course of the conversation, asked four different groups of smokers if I could bum a cigarette. How many smokes do you think I got? If you guessed four, you’re off by about four. In Rochester, I would have had a dozen cigs in no time, but down here, where people tend to have a bit more money, they’re stingy with their cancer sticks. Maybe folks aren’t so friendly after all.

(Blessing in disguise, of course. I’ve had less than ten since I quit two months ago, so why spoil it?)