Twelve martini dinner

The other night I met Jefe and his boyfriend for a late supper at a local seafood establishment. Jefe's boyfriend was in town workign on a multi-million dollar wedding that required several weeks of manpower to set up and decorate. The entire event was shrouded in mystery and the staff had all signed non-disclosure agreements so they weren't able to reveal the identities of the bride and groom.

Jefe is a friend from way back in the day, when Panda!!!! toiled away at a DC-based consulting and research firm. He worked a stint in the London office, returned solemnly to Washington DC and quickly moved to New York, where the pace better suited his rapid-fire lifestyle. It's been six or seven years since I last spent time with Jefe, who's since moved to Denver, so it was really nice to catch up.

But thanks to an ornery driver and something about misunderstood directions, Jefe and his boyfriend showed up to dinner about 30 minutes late. I had settled at our table and passed the time with several cocktails so I was well on my way to drunkeness when they arrived. We were all pretty hungry and not really paying attention to the menu's offerings so we ordered "all the appetizers" and a dozen oysters. And of course, more cocktails.