Friday, February 23, 2007

Phish ‘N Fish

In February of 2005 I spent a weekend skiing in Colorado with my two best---and oldest----friends, both of whom are conveniently named Jon. The night before we left I made a $1,000 bet with them that by 2/25/2025 Bill Clinton would be remembered as a better President than George W. Bush. While I certainly don’t have that kind of money, and probably never will, I figure that if I’m wrong, debt will be the least of my problems.

The three of us have gone skiing a number of times since and each year we’ve added a number of our high-school friends to the mix. It is the type of tradition I hope to continue until I’m too old to ski (or, at least, until I lose my previous bet and the ice caps have all melted and we are required to swim in Colorado), but each trip has also reminded me just how far apart we’ve all grown since our days of eating wing-dings in our high-school Cafeteria. I play Phantasy Phish, the Jons play poker; I consider Spaghetti marinara a gourmet meal, they consider it a form of capitol punishment; I see the word through music, they hear it, by and large, as background noise. Yet, without hesitation, I still consider them my closest friends. Which makes me wonder whether we’d still be close if we met on today instead of in seventh grade English class?

Someone once told me that when it comes to relationships, the impact is what matters and the context is what makes it possible. I agree with that statement whole heartedly, but wonder how ten years of growth and definition has, in many ways, resulted in ten years of limitations. From the type of food I eat to the type of music I listen to, the type of crazy girls I chase, to the type of friends I keep, I’ve become pretty set in my ways and am, by and large, proud of the fragile persona I’ve created for myself. But, at the same time, I often wonder what I’m missing or, more accurately, shutting myself off from.

So, this year, I decided to do something different and actually ventured outside my dietary comfort zone. I tried sushi, salmon, and, even, a new food called Ahi (the Headphone Jams of the fish world I wager). While it has nothing on the tuna I favor from the deli down my street, I have to say it wasn’t bad either. In return the Jons listed to a party playlist and found a great new band called “Talking Heads” (I’m working on ‘em slowly but surely). So, today, when I went out to lunch with a co-worker who is about to go “post-Relix,” I decided to try my lunch in a sushi wrap instead of on a roll. I guess all tuna tastes the same, only sprinkled with some different spices.

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