No soap, bathroom

What to say about the convention? I’ll work back in time. On the way home Matt and I were listening to perhaps the greatest driving music in my CD collection, Crazy Rhythms, by the Feelies. Track 4 started near the on-ramp to Interstate 70, and it has this great build up of what can only be called “guitar tension”, and it broke out just as we got onto I-70 and picked up speed, and a Delorian passed us. Very nice.

There were probably 100 men at the convention. All of them use the same restroom, and there is no soap. My question: how can they just leave and not either find soap, and/or tell someone to do his job and get new soap in the dispenser? Is there something wrong in my brain? I could not let it go.

At some point I’ll mention the actual content of the convention. The highlight had to be meeting and talking to Boston T. Party.

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