Kroa tends to involve either me working and thus getting home very late and being crank and tired, or else going to a show there and leaving with someone's beer spilled on me. Come to think of it, working a show tends to mean that I go home with several people's beer spilled on me. And then there was the CC Cowboys show last semester where an air duct was having the humidity of a very large crowd condensing on to it and then dripping on me. I had to move my scenevakt stool. Not that all events at Kroa are wet. Or that there are not rewards. I don't generally go to the nachspiel for the night's workers, usually because I'm really tired by then and don't want to try to figure out what these happily tanked Norwegians are trying to tell me about my vibrant hair.* But I walked a friend home after going out tonight, and we had a little nachspiel of our own. What is really good after a night out, especially when one's boyfriend has gone out of town for six weeks, is a friend to walk one home, a toasted cheese sandwich with a glass of milk, and something nice to listen to. Of course, Eric Clapton and a glass of milk mostly made me want to fall asleep on her couch, but we had a lovely little chat, as most chats with a good friend are, and then crawled off to the cozy cocoons of our respective beds. It's nice that there is only a little ice to crunch over between her house and mine.
*None of the other Kroa crew has ever commented my hair, but various drunken Norwegians have felt the need to pet my artfully tousled spikes and even a bartender has asked me if the color was natural. What is one to say? Yes, this atomic fireball red really just grows right out of my head.
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