Alliteration

After playing pockets with Paskal, Paskal proposes poutine. But it was 3 a.m. local time, and too late for me to start the "next" event of the night. So I left the premises.

It started out as a somewhat disappointing evening. It was pouring rain, and when I got to the bar where the party was to be held (an hour and a half fashionably late), there was still hardly anyone there...except for a small group of guys who I really didn't get to know last week (aside from Billy, who I like quite a lot). Small talk ensued, and it was made more difficult by my continued quasi-frustration with the Quebec accent, and further exacerbated by being in a noisy and dark bar where even English conversations could pose a challenge. Fortunately, sweet and thoughtful Nicholas saw that they had board games, so he grabbed one that's for ages 3 and up and brought it over. Hallelujah: I can confidently converse at the level required for this game!

More people start arriving shortly thereafter. Conversation temporarily gets harder, because now alcohol is involved for everyone there, and it doesn't help my ability to speak or comprehend all this quick banter. (I'm still a lightweight, you know.) Happily, however, I recognize an old friend of mine in the corner: a fooseball table.

Granted, I think the last time I played fooseball was in Jeremy's fraternity house basement, but I figure games are my only hope of having a social "in" for the night. Luckily for me, others are interested in playing, so we hit the table. I won five games straight before voluntarily relinquishing my place at the table -- woo hoo! Take that, French boys! I didn't know I still had it in me. Fortunately, they enjoy the competition, as do I. One thing leads to another, there's a new challenge at the pockets board, and I'm promptly put in my place by Paskal, who wants poutine. I give him a rain check and walk home happily; still in the pouring rain, but happy, nonetheless.