Saturday

I've had a lot of great days in my life. Hell, I've had a lot of flawless days this year. But, man, Saturday was incredible.

It's easy to point out big events and say, "Hey, that day was something." Obviously, when I first wandered Sydney, Paris or New York City, those days were big. And, sure, the first time I saw my name in print or bought booze legally for the first time have been grand moments in my never-ending carousel of a life, but that's not what I mean.

And I don't even mean really fun days that you'll always remember, such as Memorial Day of this year when I stayed in a seaside mansion with all the time in the world or the Mexico trip when we got robbed and almost drove off a cliff.

No, what I mean is the epic days that were made out of impromptu nothing. To me, what's impressive is when you can go to bed laughing about things that you'll easily forget in years to come. It was easier in our youth, when we only worked two days a week and could go swimming, bike-riding, partying and swooning in a single evening with ease and without worry. What gives me chills is to be so ecstatic about moments that may not even be on the radar for others (a classic parade of "you just had to be there").

Saturday was one of those days.

After attending a pirate show on Friday with more than a dozen friends for a birthday and drinking beers the size of my arm one after another, the lot of us came back to my basement bar and inhaled whiskey and beer until the early hours of the next day.

So, on Saturday, I woke up in search of the trains that hit me with Chase saying nobody was home. So, the two of us watched the Lil' Wayne documentary wearing only the jeans we slept in.

We told Rex to return/come over and the three of us goofed off until visiting my mom's farmers market booth and grabbing breakfast at Kimmie's Coffee Cup in the Orange Circle. Filled to the brim with food and laughter, we came back to the empty house to do dives off the stairs and couches onto oversized beanbags like oversized children. Nobody home but us kids, we thought. Sweaty and shirtless, we got rid off our pants and drank mimosas in our underwear on the back patio to compose a sincere letter to a friend before going through old photos and reminiscing about our younger exploits.

Around six, Dave, Sara and Brian (Dave's roommate) picked the three of us up and we sped out to Joshua Tree singing one song after another, where we stayed at a house (my first time out there not sleeping in a tent or a van). There, we inhaled whiskey and beer again until we played an erotic board game turned quiz show with contestants being tossed beers on the roof. Also, there was a brief scare of aliens, a costume contest that just about everybody won and an hour-long gigglefest over nicknames from a label maker. After scarfing down food from the super killer Mexican restaurant for some reason in Joshua Tree, we fell asleep watching The Big Hit.

What a fucking day.