Saturday night we went to outer space. We visited the sun, known as Mohegan. Rather than spill the details of smoke filled Wolf Dens, a $3 Krispy Kreme at 1am while holding a cigarette in the other hand, the my robotic arm that learned how to go crank crank, I suggest you read the 3rd Arm account. Despite the fact that I look absolutely hiteous in his gimpage, which is only slightly different from the reality of the night, it’s a story well told.
My favorite part of the pre-gambling frenzy was sitting in Ghandi, an Indian restaurant in Central Square. Eliot had just ordered some poppy seed soup. After some weird conversation that I headed regarding a ex-junkie living with my ex-friends who are associated with my ex-boyfriend (exodus!), the soup arrived. It seemed as though the fine Indian cooks had replaced the poppy seeds with store bought coconut flakes. To say the least, this soup was weird and was only a small hint of what was to come…a gabash of Indian buffet items in small stainless steel petri dishes, contained in a larger more life-size stainless steel banana boat. It was this experience that propelled Eliot to lean head-first across the table and say, “Let’s go to the casino!”
Like I said, keep an eye on the 3rd rail. Watch out or it’ll shock ya!