Stop, Drop, and Roll
It's too bad Jeremy isn't writing this story right now. He would do a fine job.
I had dinner with my good friend Jeremy the other night. It was a typical weeknight for a Seattle bar. Trivia. Seattle loves them some trivia.
The trivia-guy (not quite sure of his official title, but the company he works for is Geeks who Drink) kept cussing and complaining that he was tired because he had severe jet lag. When he approached our table I asked him where he had been that gave him such tremendous angst.
As it turns out, he flew from Denver. That poor thing.
Jer and I drank a gin and tonic, he told me the most amazing story (which I will not try to repeat because he did such a great job), ate dinner, drank another gin and tonic. and maybe a few more.
We played trivia. We lost. We were in 19th place.
As I leaned over to take the last sip from my drink a lock of my hair fell forward.
Into a candle.
Naturally, my hair catches on fire.
I quietly and frantically tried to blow out the flame that was rapidly approaching my face.
Jeremy looks up from his iphone and immediately starts waving and blowing and moving about.
A chunk of hair and ash falls on the table.
The entire bar smells terrible.
Someone approaches our table and asks, "Hey my friends and I were downstairs and we smelled burnt hair, are you okay?"
I look at Jeremy and say, "We need to go."
I now have bangs and a slight buzz cut on the top left corner of my scalp.
I will never go back there again.