Okay, which one of you fuckers took my keys?

I thought for a while, when I was trying to leave work and couldn't find them, I thought that I'd locked them in my car. They were not in my laptop case where they were supposed to be, and they were not anywhere else in my cubicle. So I realized that in my Monday morning fugue state, I must have locked them in my car.

This realization sucked, but I hadn't done it in over fifteen years, so I figured that I was due.

I walked out and peered into my windows for a good five or ten minutes.

They're not in my car.

You sure had me going though. Ha ha. That's a good one.

But now the joke has run its course. I've already bummed a ride home from a coworker, so there are no more laughs for you to have at my expense.

So, can I please have my fucking keys back?

I seem to have picked up a new quirk over the last few days. An irritating thought process that can take me nowhere good.

I've caught myself several times, way too many times to count. I've noticed this in the past, and I've always been able to stop it before it became a problem. Before that annoyance became a habit became an obsession.

What I'm doing is wondering.

Not wishing.

Not denying.

Not even hoping or regretting or fantasizing.

Just wondering. Wondering what she's doing and what she's thinking and how she's feeling and dozens of other things that are not only none of my business, they're downright dangerous subjects for me to be wondering about.

Because there's always the chance, however unlikely it may seem, there's always the chance that I'll be wondering and I'll be honest with myself at the same time. Don't laugh, it's bound to happen eventually.

One of these days or weeks or months or years, I'll allow that door that I've kept sealed in my head, that door that holds the truth at bay, I'll drop my guard and I'll allow that door to creak open. And all the monsters will come rushing out.

I wouldn't want to be around myself when that happens.

Yesterday was a pretty decent day. I actually left my basement and went out to shoot some pool. This was the first time I'd shot in a place other than my basement since January. It was also the first time I'd played an actual opponent since January.

So that was fun. My left leg is actually a little sore today. Need to work on my balance I guess.

On the way home I stopped at Taco Bell and grabbed a couple of chili cheese burritos. Shut up, I like them. I've liked them since they were called chilitos. Anyway, after I ate, I realized just how tired I was. It was 7:00 and I was too tired to even think about going out. So I wrote off my Saturday night and went to bed...

...and I couldn't sleep. My cat Buddy just would not allow it. So I went down to Rich O's.

The place was pretty empty, so I liked that. A bunch of strangers were in the living room, but I didn't feel like sitting there anyway. I grabbed my favorite seat at the island and ordered an NABC Artemsia (60).

There seemed to be a S.I.G.H. convention in the area. Several times girls would come into Rich O's proper, glance at me and the open stools around me, then veer around me to stand in the annex area. Whatever, whores.

MusicalHippyDude came and sat with me, and we were able to talk for a bit before we got interrupted. Then I managed to hurt said interrupter's feelings by picking up my shit and moving over to the (recently vacated) throne.

For the rest of the night I just sat and smoked and drank two more Artemsias (100). One note about that beer: None of the bartenders have any clue how to pronounce it. This may be an indicator that it's a stupid name for a beer. But that's just my opinion of the name. The beer itself is weird and yummy. Just like me.

(Note I've asked Roger, the owner of Rich O's, and he says it's ar-TEM-zee-uh.)

I also did something sneaky while nobody was looking. We'll see how that turns out.

After a while, LonerBoy came and sat with me, and we talked about various crap. He's going to Seattle, and I'm pretty jealous of that. I haven't been there since 2002.

Rich O's closed up early because it was so dead. LonerBoy and I went over to Jack's and I had a Blue Moon and wished I was about 20 years younger. It turned out that Jack's was where the S.I.G.H. convention was taking place.

The Blue Moon was a bad idea, and so I ended up staying at Jack's drinking Diet Coke until the wee hours of the morning, waiting for the alcohol to leave my body and talking with a bunch of girls from Logan's Roadhouse.

I'm a pretty stubborn guy sometimes. This stubbornness reveals itself in various ways. Like when I refuse to take a hint if I don't like what's being hinted at. Like when I'm completely wasting my time but I keep trying because I keep imagining that it could all be worth it in the end.

Friday night, it poured here. Floyd County got like 5 inches of rain in an hour. This is all my fault because I washed all three of my vehicles. It was raining so hard that the 20 yard sprint from my car to the GasNStuff left me completely soaked. I was wet for the rest of the night.

So I sloshed myself into Red Lobster. This is just more of my stubbornness. I was supposed to be in Indianapolis, but instead I was wasting my time back home, so I went to Red Lobster to make the night at least a little bit unusual.

The TV above the bar was nothing but weather reports. From the flash floods and the lightning. The sound was muted, so I can't be sure that they officially blamed me for all of it, but they probably did. Every fucking thing else that's ever happened is my fault, after all. Anyway, the TV was muted, but the closed-captioning was still on, but it's wasn't the text of the weather reports that was being displayed. It was instead the show that was supposed to be on at that time. That was kind of weird.

My food was good, as always. I like Red Lobster a lot. The waitress kept bugging me though. Asking if everything was okay. I said that it was, but I guess I wasn't convincing enough because then the manager came over and asked me the same question. I told him that the food was just fine, but that I kept getting interrupted by people asking me questions. He took the hint and everyone left me alone after that. I just make friends everywhere I go.

Next I went to Rich O's and sat with LibraryGirl and her friends for a while. I had myself an NABC Artemsia (40) and then a Rogue Smoke (250). I think there were people there and I think that I probably talked to some of them, but I'm sure that it was nothing important.

I'm craving a steak. Again. Must be some old age thing. Like I need meat to help make up for withering away.

So I'm at this place in New Albany called Tucker's. We used to come here, every now and then. The food is pretty good. The bartender is hot. Plus, there's something about the Guinness here. It's fucking yummy. Much better than it is anywhere else.

I'm having a Guinness, of course. A tall glass of frothy pleasure while I wait for my steak and my baked potato and my sautéed mushrooms. Not that the sides matter. It's all about the steak tonight. And the Guinness. And the hot bartender.

---

The red room at Rich O's is fucked up. Some plumbing problem. So what little crowd there is has, um, crowded into the rest of Rich O's proper. I don't care though. I'm not even officially here.

They've got two new beers on tap. Both seem intriguing to me.

New Albanian Jenever Rye(10)

(draft) Dirty gold. Zero fizz. Has a sweet aroma, if that makes any sense. Flavor is quite sweet with some odd indescribable undertones. Pretty good, but dangerous because the alcohol is very well hidden. No bitterness.

8:20
They're playing fucking Johnny Cash again. I never had an opinion about him at all, but now I hate him because they play the dead fucker so damn often in this place.

8:23
Great, now the fuckhead on the sofa is singing along to the music. I hate him.

New Albanian Artemsia Ale(10)

(draft) Clear brown. Zero fizz. Smells like a pine tree - must be the mugwort. The flavor is very weird, and very good. I like this a lot. Tastes like it should have more alcohol than it does.

8:45
Piss time.

8:55
Another half-pint of the Artemsia (20).

9:00
The strangers just left the other end of the bar. I would move down there, but it seems hard.

9:06
Some guy from the future just took the right-hand barstool. He seemed upset when his Upland Wheat didn't come with a citrus wedge.

9:08
PotatoGirl is having trouble pouring Pilsner Urquel because it's so foamy. This has prompted me to write a new advertising slogan for that beer. Pilsner Urquel: A lot of effort for a little flavor.

9:15
I had a brilliant idea for a series of 'blog entries yesterday. But it seems hard, so I probably won't do it.

9:16
The guy from the future has gone. The time portal must be about to close.

9:18
Piss time.

9:25
Ordering another half-pint of the Jenever (20).

9:35
I am sooooooooooooo glad that I deleted her number from my phone. Really.

9:37
Fine, maybe I'm stupid, but at least my stupidity lets me do the right thing. Most idiots have no excuse at all.

9:20
Bubbles is here.

9:40
PotatoGirl wants me. She needs to get in line.

9:45
This Artemsia stuff is yummy. That means that it will never be here again, so I'd better drink up. Not tonight though.

I'm officially back from Chicago now.

Notice that I said officially. I've been back unofficially since Wednesday night.

Drove to Chicago, dicked around for a few minutes, got a phone call, then drove back home.

Twelve hours of driving just to end up back where I'd started.

In more ways than one.

There are no pictures, there are no stories, there are no explanations that I feel like giving.

There is nothing.

In more ways than one.

A million years ago, I wrapped my arms around her, and she wrapped hers around me. That was the first time.

A thousand years ago, our lips met. That was the only time.

Last night, I thought about how I should have never let go from that embrace. I thought about how I should have never pulled away from that kiss. I relived those moments, as I relive them far too often as I lie staring at the ceiling but seeing only her eyes.

Maybe I'm insane. But at least I have a reason. A purpose.

If I relive those moments often enough then, I'm convinced, I'll find something. Hidden in my memory of those events, there just has to be something that I'm missing.

There's something there.

I know there is.

I'll find it.

I just need a little more time.

I should have never let go. I should have never pulled away.

How could I have been so stupid? There must have been a reason.

I'll find it.

...it was a long and boring drive.

In fact, it seemed twice as long and boring as I'd expected.

That is all.

I'm leaving for Chicago now.

The drive is going to suck because, believe it or not, driving through Indiana vertically is kind of boring.

It'll be five hours of boredom followed by two hours of heavy city traffic and toll roads.

I guess it beats going in to work, though.

Bye.

Okay, it's over. I have declared it to be so.

The last pint poured during DaveFest 2006 was a Rogue Smoke (230), and it was yummy. The festival is now over.

Sure, that last keg of Rogue Smoke is still on, but it's the last of the special-order beers. Guinness and Smithwick's are still on, but they're always on. If I waited for those two to run out then DaveFest would last for a year.

Hmmmm, The Year Of Dave...

Nope, too late. I have declared it to be over.

More than that, even. I've removed the little DaveFest thingies from the beer board, and I've stolen the DaveFest sign that hung at the Rich O's front door.

No going back now.

Now is as good a time as any. I've never hidden the fact that, for me, the whole point of the thing was to give Roger a reason to bring back Rogue Chocolate Stout. Well, he did bring it back. And now it's gone. It must have blown sometime on Monday. To have the thing drag on when the star of the show is gone just wouldn't seem right.

Besides, and speaking of the star of the show, I'll be in Chicago for the next few nights. What's a DaveFest without a Dave? A ThatOneDudeFest?

So, it's over. And I have a few closing remarks.

For Roger, and for the regulars at Rich O's, and for the strangers and idiots that have come in over the last 6 weeks, DaveFest has either been a pleasant diversion, or a cruel joke, or whatever. For me, for me it's been a singular honor. I send my heartfelt thanks to everyone involved. From Roger, who had the idea in the first place, to Tony, who did the artwork, to Tim, who made the shirts, to all of the bartenders, and to all of my friends and family members who came in and treated the thing like it was real, I am eternally grateful.

And that goes double to everyone who bought a DaveFest shirt. Take care of those things. They're collectors items now.

Roger has indicated that he may have more of these customer appreciation festivals. I hope that he does. I also hope that whoever gets picked for the honor always takes it seriously and appreciates it as much as I do.

This was the first one. The first one at Rich O's, and the first one like it anywhere as far as I've been able to determine. DaveFest 2006 made news on beer sites all over the country. I hope the concept catches on. People everywhere should have the opportunity to receive this type of honor.

Like I said, this was the first. And because it was the first, there were some kinks. If, next year, there's going to be a TimFest or a Bobfest or whatever, what can be done to make things go more smoothly? I have some ideas.

1. Beer
The next honorees should really take their time in their beer selections. I really just kind of threw my list together because I didn't think it would ever really happen. The next people won't have that excuse. They will know that Roger doesn't fuck around when it comes to beer. I should have known this myself.

2. Advertisement
DaveFest 2006 was advertised in two places: my 'blog and Roger's 'blog. No matter what Roger and I might like to think, there are better ways to get the word out. I'm envisioning a sign on the wall at Rich O's, a big sign with 180 days until MargaretFest or whatever. A countdown sign. Get people wondering about the thing well before it happens. DaveFest came as a surprise to nearly everyone. In fact, on the day before it started, one of the bartenders still hadn't heard of the thing. There should be flyers at the bar at least a couple of weeks in advance.

3. Beer Again
This year, the two Rogue kegs were two weeks late. This wasn't really the fault of any one person or organization, it was more of a cluster-fuck designed by the universe to screw with me. This is something that should be watched more closely in the future.

4. Shirts
The shirts were a fantastic thing, but they were too late. We waited too long to do the artwork, and that meant that the design got to the t-shirt guy too late. So I missed out on having DaveFest shirts for the opening weekend. And now I'm left with $300 worth of shirts that may never sell.

5. Beer Menus
Usually, when Roger has his beer festivals, there'll be special Beer Menus made up that list each of the beers along with a brief description. I'd thought about doing this for DaveFest, and I'd even talked to Roger about it. Well, I dropped the ball. I kept putting it off, and I just put it off too long. The festival beer lists are probably the best advertisement that these festivals have. Future honorees should take the time to write about the beers they've chosen and have a nice beer menu put together. Plus, this would make an excellent souvenir.

6. Dancing Girls
The DaveFest Dancers that Roger ordered for opening night never showed up. Future festival dancers should be given better directions.

I guess that's it.