A lady on her phone spoke loudly the entire time I was there saying what a particular dog was thinking at any one time, and all as if it were irrefutable fact; that is to say, not what she thought they were thinking, but what they were thinking. Perhaps she's a dog whisperer.
An older lady, and by that I mean a blue hair, was at the nearby registration desk checking out and trying to get a phone charge on her bill credited. She said something like, "In other places I didn't have to dial the 701 first." I guess some people do still use hotel room phones.
I brought Joe some coffee, OJ, and an English muffin back this time instead of danish.
We again spent some time at Port City Java, where on one side of us a group of four (three women and one man) talked sometimes about literature and language type things that I had to force myself to not get drawn into.
A guy with vision problems sat at the table on the other side of us. He kept leaning into his laptop screen to see it better. I had to force myself not to say, "Try CTRL++ on your browser," or when he was in Word or Excel, "Try the zoom feature."
There were several people in the place with coughing and hacking issues, about which we weren't at all thrilled.
After we'd been there for a couple of hours, Joe sent a link to an image to me via instant message, and when I clicked on it, a big old slice of pizza appeared. We sent a couple of other food pics back and forth giggling like school girls as we opened the next one, and then once lulled into a false sense of security, I sent him a full screen-sized porn shot. His reaction was priceless when it splashed across his screen in the middle of the coffee shop.
We had lunch at our favorite place in Wilmington, which is Elizabeth's on Market Street, again not far at all from our hotel. We got a large pizza (half pepperoni and mushroom and half pineapple and ham) and a large Stromboli (with ham, pepperoni, salami, and Mozzarella cheese) and only ate half of it, as planned, saving the rest to have either for dinner, or when we got back from the bar later this evening.
We each had a small salad, too—mine with 1000 Islands and Joe's with Ranch.
We arrived at The Toolbox at around 4:00 for their Sunday "Bloody Mary Bar," which started at 3:00, but we were the first—and only—people there. Billy fixed us each one, insisting that we include a pod of pickled okra, which wasn't half bad in it, actually. Joe had a second Bloody Mary, but I switched to bourbon and Diet Coke for my second drink.
Billy mentioned that they have "Glee Night" there on Tuesday nights, which reminded us of our search to see the Never Been Kissed episode yesterday. He told us that they showed a repeat this week, so Never Been Kissed has not been aired yet, which of course, is why we couldn't find it to watch.
We watched the preview of said episode, which was of Kurt watching an all-male chorus singing a version of Teenage Dream, and after that Billy put on the video of that song by Katy Perry, in which there are some totally hot scenes. One in particular shows a smokin' hot guy lying on top of a girl—both half naked, and one of the guys that had come in yelled when that scene came on, "Plow it like a field!"
After that, Billy put on a fun, sexy video of a bunch of hot men scantily clad and licking various ice cream treats, called The Ice Cream Truck (Viewer Discretion Advised). 'Nuff said.
We left there at a little after 5:00 and dropped by the Hilton Wilmington Riverside to check in with my colleagues who were trickling in today for our three-day conference, which starts tomorrow. Entering the lobby my senses were besieged with Marines in dress blues, who were there for a Marine Corps Ball celebration! OMFG.
I saw Jason, my straight colleague, who's been working on organizing this conference for well over a year now, and I shook his hand saying, "Thank you! This is like me having arranged this conference for you in a hotel where the Miss Universe Pageant was going on."
We only stayed there long enough to take in the scene and make plans to potentially meet up at Costello's Piano Bar at around 8:00 or 8:30 after all of them had dinner. Joe and I ended up getting there only to confirm that they didn't have anyone playing the piano tonight.
So, we had one drink, and left "Fred" there, who sat at the other end of the bar from us, was totally shit-faced, and was murmuring something about his 9-inch dick.
We called my colleagues to see where they wanted to meet, and we ended up at the Front Street Brewery, where we joined Sarah, Jen, Jason, Nick and Garrison for some drinks for a couple of hours. Several people had what they call "flights," which were sample-sized glasses of five of their beers. Jason, Jen, and Garrison each had their own, and Sarah and Joe split one. Nick drank Captain Morgan and Ginger and I had bourbon and Diet Coke.
At one point, two people had Lemon Drop shots, and then Sarah and I bought a round of Buttery Nipples, Cowboy Cums, or Blowjobs—called any or all of those things depending on your sensibilities and proclivities. I noted that on the receipt, they were called Buttery Nipples, which I suppose, is the least offensive, since it only denigrates women.
I demonstrated the correct way to do a blowjob (so-to-speak), which is to pick up the shot glass without your hands, with your mouth around the glass empty the liquid into your mouth with a swig of your head, and swallow. 'Nuff said again.
The only other thing I'll say about that is that people (and mercifully, I won't name names) couldn't get their mouths around that little shot glass. The two gay guys at the table didn't seem to have any problem with them. Things that make you go, "Hmmm."
Here are a few pics of the festivities:
Silliness Ensuing—John and Sarah
Silliness Still Ensuing—John Rubbing Jason's Neck Around Nick's Back
Joe and I left there probably around 10:30 or a little after, and we went back to The Toolbox where there was a booger drag show going on. One of the performers was singing a song called, "Soup or Salad," which was a play on the restaurant, Souper Salad, I believe.
Joe met a guy named Ray, who seemed to be on the prowl, and I later met a guy named Michael who told me that Ray was his boyfriend of two years. It wasn't clear if Ray knew that or not.
Michael seemed to me to be one of those "conflicted gays," a judgment I made with information that he played piano with a small gospel group who he didn't think knew he was gay.
Also in the realm of snap judgments, I'd say he had a slight gambling problem as he'd played one of those video poker type machine for quite a while before coming up to talk to me. And then he said, "Come stand beside me while I play, and bring me some good luck."
He put in $20 and mostly lost slowly, then won a little, then another slow loss, and then I said, "Good luck with the rest of that," and walked away. After he finished that, he moved to another machine that ate coins and bills.
We stayed there way later than I wanted to, finally leaving at 2:25.