So Friday night I put on clean sheets and crawled into bed at 730/8ish and watched some TV. Since the night before I had only gotten about 3 or so hours of sleep and then worked out and worked all day I was pooped. Completely wrung out.
I just remember rolling over and pushing play on the iPod and the next thing I knew I was living in a condo in Toronto (I blame Sandra Rinomato and Property Virgins).
I headed out of my condo and down in a giant elevator knowing I was going to meet Alaina and our band of "don't let the man hold you down" brothers.
I got all the way to the parking garage and realized I left something in my place. So back up I went and back down I came. Except, when the elevator was almost to the ground floor it stopped and tipped, like tipped over.
We could see out of the corner of the elevator but that was it. My cell phone was in the car and I started to panic about getting to our rendez-vous point.
While dreaming that I was in the elevator panicking about being late I started to flash back in my dream about the meetings. How we were planning to "stick it to the man" using an elaborate plan of scaffolding, parade balloon animals, fireworks and all of us dressed like ninjas.
It's hard to explain, but imagine the set up looking something like the Hollywood Squares boxes all stacked up.
We would meet in Alaina and I's old dorm room in YSU, which was located in a building that looked like the dorms at BGSU and had the inside layout of Alaina's old factory apartment in Cincinnati. I know...it's all very tres tres chic.
When I finally got out of the elevator I ran Sydney Bristow style through the streets of Toronto until I arrived and was able to watch (but not participate in...boooo) the gloriousness of the plan come off.
I'm still not aware of the point of it all, other than the usual result of Alaina and I's master schemes, which was a crap ton of fun.