We've survived Prague, Bratislava, Split, Dubrovnik, and Budapest so far, and today we pulled into Varna (Жарна) on the Bulgarian Black Sea coast. There is no water in Varna right now. I mean, there's the Black Sea and all, but there is no running water anywhere in the city. Fortunately, the Internet cafe is doing just fine, and everyone mysteriously seems to know that the water will be back on by 10 p.m., a mere hour away.

In the meantime, we take some solace in the fact that there's plenty of beer around. Boy howdy. Plus, we just had a two-course meal plus a half-liter of beer each, it was delicious, and the total bill with solid tip was 31 leva, which is about $25. Good times.

An Open Letter to the Fleetwood Diner

Dear FD,

So, um, yeah, I just wanted to drop you this little note to say that I'm sorry about the unpleasantness. You see, I normally don't get that way, but it was my last night in town and I'd been moving all day and was pretty dehydrated, plus I had one or two more drinks than usual. Also, I haven't really drank much in July; July was bad--just take my word for it. So I was celebrating the end of that horrible, awful month too, and I accidentally overstepped my limits.

I'm honestly not even sure if you're the one I should be apologizing to, because I think that the garbage can in question might be municipal and not yours. But even so, it's right there in front of you, so you had to deal with the aroma of what I'd like to call "certified pre-owned gin" all night, and perhaps still even now. So yeah, totally sorry about that.

I'd also like to emphasize that this in no way reflects on the pancakes. I mean for starters, the first visit to the can in question happened before the flapjacks even arrived, and the return trip happened after just one bite. I don't think the one bite was a contributing factor at all. I mean, I've never had your pancakes before, but I've sat next to someone who was having them, and I remember being totally jealous because they smelled really good. In short, don't change the pancakes.

So I'm gone from Ann Arbor now and I won't get to stop by anymore, but please don't let this unfortunate incident scar the four or five other really good times we had together. I know it won't in my mind.

Sincerely,

--joe

P.S.: I know that "hippie hash" is a big seller in a college town, but that doesn't change the fact that broccoli does not belong in breakfast food. Please consider dumping it.

I've been going to a particular bar every Tuesday night for the past several months for karaoke night, and I almost inevitably end up there until close. This is not particularly convenient, given bar study, given that I wake up at 6:30 every weekday morning (except Wednesday) to go to the gym before bar study, and given that it's a really random night. You might conclude that I have an insatiable desire for karaoke; that would be false. Ann Arbor has more karaoke per capita than any place in the world (from the Dept. of Made Up But Plausible Statistics), and I could get my fix any time. Don't get me wrong, I really like karaoke, to the point where I think some people have homed in on it as making me "The Karaoke Guy" (kind of a "Big Tuna" thing--Jim not Parcells--but closer to legitimate). But that's really not it.

The reason that Tuesday night karaoke night (and, last spring, Monday night karaoke night) has become non-negotiable in a crowded weekly schedule is that I've rediscovered the joy of being a regular. It turns out that I love the idea of going to the same place with basically the same crowd every week--knowing the bartender, knowing the other regulars, knowing the ebb and flow of the evening, etc.

I don't know if I'm going to be able to get that working a Big Law schedule, but I hope I can find a way to be at least a semi-regular somewhere.