Afloat in a pub, somewhere far away

It'd be raining outside. When the show began it would have been just a drizzle, but now it'd be raining outside, and heavily.

That wouldn't matter, because I'd be sharing an inebriated stranger's drink. Probably a Dartmouth graduate (he'd have shown me his ID to prove it), and I'd be quite content.

If it occurred to me, I might explore the place. I'd find brilliant architecture, probably, something that emulates something else that's a parody of something old and magnificent.
You know how it is.

But the whole time, I'd be wrapped in an oatmeal-colored blanket, or maybe it's a nubby beige cardigan. And I'd be listening to something fantastic. It'd be otherworldly in the sense that the places the music takes me would be aeons and oceans away. Surreal, even.

I'm not even sure I'm back yet. My inebriated stranger's glass is still half full, so I might just stick around.

Oh, these Saturdays.