I was home – but almost no one else was. Of the three folks left, two were too buzzed to remember me even if we had known each other. Logan was partaking but coherent; I’d never met him before, but he was kind enough to help me unpack, and even volunteered to sleep elsewhere that night, lending me his bed so I could wait to set my tent up during daylight hours…
But beds were the last thing on my mind; this was to be a short trip to Pennsic to catch up with old friends and no more. I changed into what I had that could pass for garb. I’d packed quickly, not bothering to dig out my more authentic stuff, and the peasant shirts I’d brought included a subtly tie-dyed number that I hope wasn’t too noticeable in the dark. Soon I was sitting round the campfire, re-making the acquaintance of the folks who had been so gracious to me three years prior.
After some time Logan invited me to go party-roaming, along with a couple of girls and a judge who had been brought in to remarry a couple who camped nearby. Sober as a judge the judge was not. This judiciary gentleman developed a habit of leaning in to whisper incoherent nothings in my ear. At some point, he must have given up on his own designs, as he declared:
“You know, in my line of work you get a feel for these things, and I can tell you two are a great couple. How long have you been together – two, three years?”