Some time ago, possibly the day of the most epic photo scavenger hunt known to man (or at least to this hu-man), I ran across a bar called The Last Hurrah. Even then it spoke to me of the parting of the ways of the four tenants of Jack In The Box (as our place is called), and when I mentioned it to V., she was enthusiastic about it being a part of her last night out in Cambridge. Er, Boston.
So tonight, we went. I arrived there on the on-time/early side, and E. was already there and well into drink 1. I joined him at the bar and quickly we were joined by others, and ceded our spots to move to a larger table. We migrated once more to move to a spot which happened to be directly in front of the television that was broadcasting the Olympics. Luckily the patrons who seemed interested in watching both a) were very nice and b) departed shortly after.
The portion of the night held at the Last Hurrah was (fortunately) fairly short-lived and involved a lot of talk about water conservation. We relocated to one of my favorite Cantabrigian bars, River Gods, not too far into the night. On the way we passed a lovely sign entreating us to shred any suspicious evidence [so weird; see above photograph], and once there we were greeted by many summertime lovelies in the form of butterflies hanging from the ceiling and such (River Gods always has bizarre creatures hanging around to celebrate whatever season it may be).
The point: Good-byes are terrible, but a part of life. I don't know why you say good-bye, I say hello...
