...and then promptly fell asleep. On the road, I kept calling Scott trying to tell him that we were on our way and to wait for us at Tim's dock, but he'd forgotten his phone and Tim's boat, the "SS Farley," sailed across glorious Lake Hopatcong without us. Boooooo!
...Fatty and his band were staying! Fatty and Scott (the band's road guy) had gotten into town from NYC via van earlier that day and were kind enough to let me crash in their room. Thanks guys!
(Update: Ok, in Grant's
defense I have to post something from an email he just sent clarifying
why he was worried about the whole plane thing. Turns out he
wasn't worried that I'd be mistaken for a a terrorist,
he was worried that they were going to think I was
a spy. In
his email he included a link to story on the
BBC
news website about 14 "planespotters," people that
take pictures of airplanes as a hobby, that were
just convicted
of "espionage" after being arrested for taking pictures
of Greek military planes during an airshow there. Ka-ka-kuh-razy!
Good
looking out, Grizza. Sorry.)
Back at the condo after dinner, Fatty managed to get off a fairly decent braining while Grant took a nap. He was about to lean in closer, but Grant woke up (This kid's so high-strung a mouse fart'd wake him up).
We drove back to our resort and loafed around relaxing. Grant and I came back from reading outside on the porch to discover that our dear, dear friend the Fatty had made the fatal mistake of falling asleep with his headphones on. Uh-oh! We all know what that means!
The three of us headed back to our condo to try to convince the still-sleeping boys to head into town and getting some food. Check out the Fatty totally passed out from the previous night's exploits. Beeeeeg guy on a leeeeetle couch!
Fatty's big plan was to pop a few Tylenol PM and sleep for the entire flight. But for some reason, he didn't stay asleep. He managed to get, oh, about 25 minutes of sleep before he was awaken by the stewardess who wanted to know what we wanted for dinner.