Ye olde story

My Godson turned 11. (11! Holy crap. How old am I?) We celebrated amongst the knights and wenches at Medieval Times. I really love my Godson. I think I demonstrated it well by only complaining a little bit about the two hours it took me to drive 45 miles. 10 miles in 60 minutes. I love DC traffic. I love everything about DC. So, there I am. Moving in first gear, talking on the cell phone (Yeah, I am THAT girl) to my friend whom I am going to meet. She tells me her folks are running late, too. I tell her I will call when I am close to Medieval Times (MT). I figure I will get there before her folks. I am wrong. So I get to MT and call. No answer. I stand in front looking around like an idiot. No one there. I call again. No answer. Now, you should know that you need a ticket to get into this event. I do not have one. I stood around calling her cell for 15 minutes. Yep, that's how long it took her to answer. I love her, but once she gets things situated for herself, she tends to forget about anyone else. But I finally got in and got to enjoy a super cool show with dancing Andalusian horses and jousting and swordfights and a falconer. The horses were unbelievable. The food was pretty good, too. We had chicken and a rib and everything was very greasy. They only supplied us each with one napkin and a wetnap. not enough, my friends. Especially when the feisty 14 month old pulls the grog mug down and pours the contents out on his mother.
The end.