I was going to write something on Dreamers today, but then the evening took a turn for the frustrating.

The inestimable Mac Cowell was hosting an America Day barbecue party etc. at his house. It was going rather well, I was talking to interesting people, et cetera, Rock Band was played, burgers had, and so forth. At probably around 9:30 or so we took off to head to the Charles via the T, to watch the fireworks. On the way there I continue a conversation with someone whose name I never quite caught, and was generally enjoying the presence of our troupe. Upon arrival at the Davis Square T station, Dave Fisher and myself both had to purchase T passes.

Now, as this is America Day, everyone is heading into the city to watch the fireworks at this point in time, so the station is, predictably, pretty crowded. And there was a train arriving just as we erached the station. By the time Dave and I had purchased our passes, the train had left.

So, too, had our party.

Figuring we could simply call to meet up with them upon arrival, and having no real other option anyway, we continue to Kendall station and depart, attempting to call Mac. No such luck, it seems! His phone appears to not function terribly well. We try a few more times to no avail; we try Seth, who answers his phone! But he is, unfortunately, not with the group. He joins us, and we realize that collectively, none of us have any of the phone numbers of anyone in the group, with the exception of Mac. We proceed to where we believe the party was supposed to be; they are not there (though, in fairness, we may have gotten the wrong place, due to not being able to contact anyone and all).

We had lost the party.

The fireworks from the 10th floor at 1cc were suitably awesome. But as the evening continued to wear, the expected inertia of the evening caught up to me. It wasn’t happening. It was just such an abrupt ending.

(I blame no one for this; it happens, there were a lot of us, etc., but man, what a weird way to end the evening.)