I think everyone has certain rules by which they live their life; guidelines set by themselves or the people close to them. Tonight, I'm thinking of thinking of a rule I was held to in high school:
Never be the first to leave.
Folks liked my company, I guess, and got tired of seeing me ditch out early just because I had to make a half hour drive home. So someone (Vitaly? Rich?) made the rule. I had to stay until at least one other person got up to go. It was a good rule. It gave me the freedom to commit to anything. After all, I couldn't leave, so I had to at least be having fun.
I went out to a bar with some friends tonight. Typical Wednesday night at the College Inn. I saw some folks I hadn't seen for a while, met some cool new people. But then I had to catch a bus, the last to get me home.
I was the first to leave.
Everyone gave me a look that said "But we've barely had time to say hello." And the truth is, I felt it. Too many people I didn't get to talk to, too many friends I barely got to see. Generally I'm glad to live in Green Lake; as the days get warmer and I'm able to spend more time at the lake/park itself, I'll be even happier for it. But night's like this make me really wish I'd decided to live in the U District again.
Or at least that I had a car.