Going out was easier when we were younger...

So, Wednesday night, my wife and I travel to an interesting eatery called "The Melting Pot" to celebrate one of my closest friends' birthday. Before I continue this, here are a couple of things you, the reader, need to know.

First things first, his girlfriend was the one setting up this surprise party, but honestly I was relieved it was a somewhat normal food place. And when I say "normal", I mean "food I would eat". Because, quite frankly, I am a notoriously picky eater. I can't help it. Someone mentions Thai food and my stomach starts sinking. My friend mentions Indian food and my sphincter begins to pucker. I just don't like getting too experimental with my food. Well, my friend does. I couldn't tell you how many times we would agonize over trying to find some place to eat because he likes more exotic fare. I am the complete opposite of this. Which is kinda funny because "The Melting Pot" is anything but conventional. It is a fondue restaurant. Now as a food illiterate buffoon, the only thing I knew of fondue was melted cheese or chocolate. So, I wondered, how the fuck does one make a meal out of appetizers and dessert?

Secondly, without getting too into my personal business, I am (and have been for sometime) experiencing a very tight money situation. And when I say tight, I mean as tight as Hillary Clinton's vagina. Seriously, we have had zero extra money since circumstances caused my wife to change jobs. So, anytime we are asked to go out I am as hesitant to accept as I would be accepting an invitation to join Dick Cheney on a hunting trip (how's that for equal time political bashing?) Now this time, we actually had a little extra scratch and we're able to go. So no problems there, though I did have a little voice in the back of my head praying that dinner would not be too pricey. And I'm not announcing this so as to garner pity, just noting it's relevance to it's context later in the story.

Next, I work what I consider to be a fairly normal work schedule. Specifically, M-F 6 AM to 2 PM. Not a bad schedule considering. But what utterly sucks about it is the early start. I'm not a morning person to begin with but even worse is we live in a northwest suburban area of Houston and I work on the south side of Houston, so I have to get up really early for work. Like between 4 and 4:30 AM. Now, the restaurant where the birthday was taking place was in midtown Houston with reservations at 7:30 PM. And to top it all off, I was picking up my wife from work. Which meant that whenever this shindig ended, it was still gonna be awhile before I got home and got to bed.

Lastly, I was not feeling well. Due to a couple of days of near constant sinus drainage, I was nauseated. So was the wife. We both were not feeling tip top.

If I had my druthers, we would have stayed in. This was definitely the night for it. In fact, my brother counseled me to do this. He would have. He would have stayed home, content to relax. A couple of things prevented me from doing this: 1)Now that he has a job where he travels so much I don't see Craig (the friend in question) that much. So, when he's in town, I try to connect with him when I can. 2)Jillian (his girlfriend) had earnestly asked if we could attend, and I had said yes. 3)I hadn't seen some of the other people that were going to be there in awhile. 4)He is one of my closest, best friends and this was his birthday. As I tried to explain to my brother, sometimes you have to make sacrifices for friends. And I'm not running for sainthood or trying to win a free "Martyr" t-shirt or some such shit, sometimes friendship means going out of your way for that person you call "friend" because you know it's going to mean a lot for them. And don't get me wrong, there have been times when I haven't succumbed to that siren call of hanging out with Craig, but I generally have a good reason that I am unable to.

Now I know this sounds like this was going to be a recipe for disaster, but I think you might be surprised. To be continued...