Mestee Blogger

I've been a travelling man for the past few weekends. This past weekend, I went to Georgia for my cousin's wedding and the weekend before that, I visited Hufton at the Phid House in Michigan.

Irf and I were greeted by Hufton, who escorted us from Detroit to Ann Arbor in a borrowed vehicle that could only be described as luxurious. I kid, I kid. It had four fully functioning tires and a backseat just big enough to fit one sour-faced Irfan.

Irf was not put in a better mood when he realized that our bags would not be delivered until later that night after being lost in Chicago. If only he knew on Thursday that he would not get his bag back until we returned to the airport on Monday. Because of this, Irf got stuck wearing almost all of Hufton's risque t-shirt collection throughout the weekend.

The three of us had a good time tossing around the baseball, watching the NCAA tourney, eating massive quantities of wings, quoting Arnold Schwarzenegger, etc. On Friday night, Irfan found himself particularly full of energy and vowed early on that he would "close down the dance floor" at the party we were at in the Phid House. I thought he was full of it, but his intensity rarely waned through the course of the night. In fact, it became a goal of the DJ to play Irfan off the dance floor, playing the most undanceable music one could imagine. At 3:00 AM, Irf was alone on the dance floor, but he perservered. Dropkick Murphy's bagpipe music? Irf jigged like nobody had ever jigged before. Super slow songs? Irf went solo interpretive. I could see that he was struggling to keep dancing as Matt, the DJ, busted out a little Willie Nelson, "You Were Always on My Mind". I offered myself up as a dance party, but quickly got embarassed and tired of holding his sweaty hands.
I took a seat, but he continued, leaving Hufton's fellow law students to marvel as to how he and Irfan could possibly be friends.

To Be Continued...
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