Another Story About Nachos

When I first moved to Australia I had no friends and my boyfriend worked until midnight. So his best friend Rob took me out, even though he didn't know me. We went to an aboriginal music festival. It was amazingly cool--outdoors at this place that had a glass floor and water flowing underneath it. There were about 10 short shows, all of different kinds of aboriginal music and dancing. We drank a lot of beer and had a fantastic time. Then we went back to Dan's and my house and drank more beer. Then we got baked, and I formally introduced Australians to nachos.

While I give them credit for all foods Asian, Mexican food in Australia sucks. They confuse it with Spanish food and try to serve you tapas, and they don't get the concept of layering stuff onto the nachos to make them gooey and good. They put weird stuff on them, like baked beans. They'd put beets on them, too, if you let them. They put beets on everything. So I showed them how it's done.

Anyway: the nachos were in the oven. We drank more beer. It added up to quite a shitload of beer in the end, and Dan came home from work and took off his work boots and he got a beer, too. A mere moment after Dan set the boots down by the door, Rob, quite drunk by now, accidentally but with much force, knocked a pint glass off the table. The pint glass, as if in slow motion, tumbled through the air in a wide arc all the way across the room. The glass landed (this is true, I tell you) upright in Dan's boot. It was amazing.