thomsen.

Black shirts weave back and forth behind the bar. What your half drunken eyes cannot see are the infamous words, "the antidote to education" inscribed in light tan. If anything should be any indication if you're totally drunk would be your inability to read these words inscribed on the shirts of six employees that work at "well, can't remember what bar I'm in right now". Nevertheless, I will leave an update at the bottom of the page once I figure it out!

The night before started out rather slow; the local intellectual reputation of Berkeley best just didn't seem to be in the mood to chill and enjoy some fabulously fantastic Sam Adams Winter lager (it seems they rather perferred "brown" beer). Granted, it should be understood that this should not be the overwhelming preference of beer of the people of Berkeley. 

Entering into the "well, can't remember what bar I'm in right now" and walking straight to the bar I had to ask the bartender if they had Sam Adams (for reasons unknown, it seems that the "West" still hasn't caught on the magic of a Sam Adams beer). Originally, I had expected him to say no, but to much of my dismay, he actually said they did have Sam Adams. I cannot tell you how relieved I was to hear such good news. 

Unexpectedly, I did not realized that my black backpack continued to obnoxiously bang into a pretty young lady that was standing right next to me. As I received my Sam Adams and turned to my left, it was her sincere face that flat out expressed to me that while she was annoyed by it, she was definitely friendly. Found out that she was chillin and meeting up with some old friends and live about fourty-five minutes away from Berkeley.

Unfortunately, never got her name.

On my right, after he had left, I found out that I had talked to one of the regulars. A tall, middle-aged black man, and from what I gathered, worked for University of Berkeley. As far as to what his actual occupation, I have no clue oncesoever, but I do know that his ability to laugh at himself just about will get anyone to open up if you ask him the right questions. We talked about Berkeley, Iraq, Oakland, NCAA, NBA, and most surprising, about his grandfather. 

His name was John. 

Lastly, the mostly unexpected of the night was that a woman asked me if I was from Hungary (One of the coolest jackets I ever got), but unfortunately, I had to tell the lady that I wasn't from Hungary and that I actually got in exchange for my USA jacket in the land of the Aussie. What could of ended up in disappointment, actually ended up us exchanging information and possibly a free adjustment (she's a choipractor, please forgive my spelling since I'm on my third drink, and of course, will correct it later). 

I got her name and her information; now, I deserve a bonus. 

Black shirts weave back and forth behind the bar. What your half drunken eyes cannot see are the infamous words, "the antidote to education" inscribed in light tan.

Now, my eyes are squirming to read...