On my way out, this Amy-looking person was sitting on the stoop next door again, with her boyfriend and a young woman with blond dreadlocks that I'd seen around work but had never been introduced to. I asked the Amy-looking person if she'd hit Paris on the Platte while in Denver. We got to talking again, the dreadlocked person introduced herself as Roselin, and then they-all planned to hit Fahrenheit. For some reason, they asked if I wanted to come along. I said, "Sure!" and off we went. Seems Roselin knows a new cook of ours, Tony, and I launched into talking about Tony recognizing when I was listening to They Might Be Giants. I started to mention an amusing (to me) music-story concerning Tony and I, but her attention seemed to wander so I gave up on explaining it.
For those keeping score at home, Fahrenheit was where I had to tote those 60 lbs of glassware from, the other week, and where I had all that Jägermeister.
Once getting there, it was the four of us, the bartender, and a waiter looking person. That's it. They went off to the bathrooms and I ordered a stout. They came out of the bathrooms and decided to go back to Luna, but Roselin said she'd wait while I finished my drink.
After one painfully quick pint later (good thing I didn't ask them to put a dollop of ice cream in it), they headed back and I sort of "sneaked off" since I knew that if I actually returned, I'd feel guilty and start helping around work, off the clock. But to make up for it, I phoned my co-workers who were still there, explained how to work out who this Roselin person was, and asked them to send my apologies to her for having to cut out early.
What's extra-special odd is that near-strangers have asked if I wanted to go to Fahrenheit twice now, in as many weeks. The previous time was last Thursday, when someone named Ashley and her friend mentioned they'd seen me around Luna (where I work) and thought I was worth contacting.