Tuesday Morning Coming Down

And the hangovers hurt more than they used to, and they last longer, as well. So let's ease back into the workaday, gheorgeaday world, shall we?

If you'd like a cogent and reasonably comprehensive recap of OBFT XXV, our man Dave has an excellent sentence for your reading pleasure. In the comments on that sentence, Whitney said, "I had as good a time at this one as I’ve had at any of the 25." I concur in full. I drank way too much, ate far, far too much, smoked entirely too much, slept too little, laughed exactly enough, played way too many stupid and excellent beach games (inside and outside), lost precisely the right amount of money playing cards, argued the correct arguments, told the same stories in the proper proportion, learned a lot, and loved every minute.

At some point late on Saturday, or possibly Friday (definitely wasn't Thursday or Wednesday), with a good-sized group of dudes sitting around the table in the dining room, someone commented about how lucky we are to have this many friends ready, willing, and able to spend several days together, as comfortable in each other's company as ever, after so many years.

OBFT is a gift, and I consider myself lucky to get to be a part of it every year. Hangovers and all.