a case of the fridays

Whilst traveling, Friday nights are my least favorite. For when I go out, I seek a quiet bar, to have a beer and read a book or perhaps watch a ballgame. Sometimes dinner for one is a salve against the constant assaults of a workday.

But not on Fridays. Fridays bars are full of young idiots loading themselves with booze. Restaurants are loud and lines lengthy. Takeout is a chore as kitchens backed up from a packed house know they can delay my food at less cost to their servers. Television is (even) less worthwhile with none of the syndicated goodies on which I rely and no Jon Stewart send me off to sleep.

So it goes, another night in Waco, in my hotel, in a place far away from everywhere I want to be.