Spurred by the warm weather and lack of adventurous ‘trips’ taken together, we each ingested almost a full eighth between drinks in our Just an old flight attendant who loves dogs shirt , which doubled as our dinner, and left the apartment with heads full of spirits and mouths full of shards. In an effort to soothe any creeping mushroom reflux, we decided to walk a few blocks before ordering an Uber. It was 6:30, thirty minutes to doors, hour to show time, and we had plans to meet our friend in Shakedown prior to entering the stadium. Only after escaping the heat and settling into the car’s backseat did I sense the first, very strong signal that the mushrooms were on the move. Though I wasn’t overly warm, I was sweating intensely from abnormal areas. Not my palms, but the backs of my hands were covered in sweat. A line of sweat beads ran from the temples down either side of my head, pooling under my chin. Both knee pits were sopping. I felt like a can of cream soup that had been pin punctured at random.
Just an old flight attendant who loves dogs shirt, Hoodie, Sweater, Vneck, Unisex and T-shirt
Best Just an old flight attendant who loves dogs shirt
Even under cover of aviators, there was no mistaking Lilly’s Just an old flight attendant who loves dogs shirt , eyebrows hovering over the top of the lenses, for anything other than “we’re fucked.” I grabbed her hand and squeezed, a gesture of reassurance that we were OK, but considering the forced half-smile it was attached to, likely succeeded only in reinforcing her belief. She laughed loudly before abruptly suffocating it like a sneeze she hadn’t felt coming. I kept mouthing, “OK”, to her over and over, nodding my head up and down like a defeated football coach absorbing the reality of a massive halftime deficit. She, however, appeared almost excited. Her rosy red cheeks and shit-eating grin produced this cartoonish expression like she was in on the joke, whether this was all in good fun or the way it all ended. On cue, “Werewolves of London” issued forth from the radio, each “Aaaooooo!” louder and more hair-raising than the last as we rolled toward Wrigley.