We did manage to rally for a rousing game of wiffleball, where I met a guy with an American flag shaved into his chest. I am just that lucky. He really liked my sweatshirt and offered to buy it off me, but since I don't wear it nearly as often as he made it clear that he will, I let him have it. He took down my address, promising to send me a surprise in the mail one day - I am not holding my breath. We memorialized the moment in this photo:
One thing I should note about this dude: he showed up with his wife, another topless guy in neon shorts, and a comparatively mild-mannered man who is Meg's friend from their hometown of (no joking) Normal, Illinois. They rolled up in a stretch limo and had the driver wait while we played, a fact that made a little more sense when we found out they were visiting from LA.Now Mike is on a plane to DC, and I leave later in the week for over a month of almost straight travel. I am pretty sure I will not meet too many more people with alternative body hair styles, though my fingers are crossed.
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