Happy Hour

Okay, so yes, I will be 24 in December, quantifying me as an adult for the sixth year. That being said, I don't consider myself an adult. Or at least a grown-up -- the schmaltzy term. I do manage my own little apartment while I'm in school, I pay bills, I hold down a respectable job, and I have even managed to find a compatible group of "couple friends" who match Ian's and my out-of-sync lifestyles.

But until today, I had never gone to Happy Hour after work with colleagues. I was absolutely thrilled when Alex, one of my coworkers, put out the offer for Happy Hour last week. Ian had just moved to Richmond and he was trying to get himself settled, plus he was bunking with my family for a few nights until his furniture arrived, so I couldn't rightfully get hammered indulge under the circumstances.

On Monday, Alex threw out the offer again, but I was gung-ho about trying out spinning and the Stairmaster. I regretfully declined, but I've been dying to have a marg or two with my work frands. Today, I was flat-out of excuses. Tara, Alex, and I went to Nacho Mama's at 3:00 in the afternoon and ate and drank to our hearts' content. We ordered a plate of nachos to split that likely could have fed a small third-world village for a week or two. I had a house marg, and suddenly, another appeared in front of me. I even sampled the watermelon marg the restaurant owner cooks up every year for the Carytown Watermelon Festival. 

I have to say, it was quite nice enjoying the company of coworkers outside of the work atmosphere... even if all we talked about was work-related. I didn't feel so stellar about driving down Cary Street and River Road during rush hour following two of those margaritas (and with a very full belly, I might add), but I couldn't have my cake and eat it on this one. Thanks for the invite, Alex -- cheers to Margarita Wednesday, good friends, and great conversation!

P.S. What was your first happy hour like?