Grief

Last weekend, I went to the big city for a concert with some friends, two of whom are married. Once we got there, rather than driving aimlessly through town trying to find a parking lot everywhere we needed to go, we decided to use the little Epcot-like elevated people-moving train-ish contraption.

We're standing on the platform, trying to avoid the large group of teenagers (why do they always move in packs?) when the train came in. Being polite midwesterners, we allowed the people getting off the train to get off before we got on. Mistake.

The wife managed to get on the train. The doors started to close so I, being wise to the ways of Metro trains and their built-in safety features, stuck my arm in the door in order to get the doors to open again. Didn't work. The thing started beeping, I pulled my arm out and the train pulled away with the wife inside.

We turned to look at the husband.

"Dude. It'll be okay. We'll be here through all of the stages of grief for you."

"That's okay," he replied. "I've already reached acceptance. Can we go to the strip club now?"