Hangin' with the smart kids

Last weekend, during my rolling roadshow tour of Texas (Austin to Houston to Austin to Burnet to houston to Austin) I was at Ross's mom's house near Camp Longhorn just outside of Burnet, TX. Michelle and I were there for a Ross's birthday dinner, along with some of his close friends.

As I do at all parties, I started telling stories. One of my favorites, at least when I'm standing next to a pool and jacuzzi, is from back in high school. Now the guys I'm relating my little tale to, Ben and Brendan, are very cerebral gentlemen. Let's just say they could join Mensa in a heartbeat... if they weren't already in it (guys?). So anyways, I'm telling the story about how my friend left his pool heater on the night before he had a party and when he woke up the pool was about 110-degrees. At this point, Ben looks at me in amazement and says, "Wow! It was boiling?!" To which Brendan had replied, "Farenheit, dude. Farenheit."

Now, this is a response that took me a little aback. This was the first time I have ever had to explain what temperature scale I was using during my story. I have never felt like people I was telling my story to were on a higher level more so than at that moment, and you know what, I thought it was kind of cool. I'm sure its one of those nerdy, Peter Parker kinds of cool, (but not Emo Peter), but I appreciated it.

Of course after finishing the story everything reverted back to fart jokes as our collective level of intoxication increased; sharply so upon the arrival of Mauri & Ray. The rest of the night was pretty fun: more stories, jokes, and a short-circuiting power line that showered sparks and caused brown-outs. I think I heard one of my favorite drinking stories ever from Brendan in which he and two other grad students were drinking on the roof of a bar and suddenly the other two grad students dissappeared as the roof gave way, on either side of Brendan. Great story. But I still can't beleive I had to explain I wasn't talking in metric units. Fellas, I salute you.