I thought it made sense the way he put it. And if anyone could find a room at that late date, it would be James. "Okay! You win!" I agreed to go, but I thought I'd regret it.It was Fat Tuesday night. The thought struck me that I'm not a drinker like James, even when I'm partying. One, two beers max and I'm done for a couple of hours. The two advantages of my being a light drinker were that I would be able to drive back to school the next day, and that I would remember anything that happened that night. He'd be lucky to remember anything since about eight o'clock Saturday night.We were standing on a crowded first floor balcony in the French Quarter. I had a couple of dozen strings of beads from James' stockpile looped around the crook of my left elbow. He'd obviously thought about Mardi Gras long before his last minute "Let's go!" speech, which was typical. Late in our freshman year he finally realized he shouldn't talk me into something and then give me time to change my mind. He's. She was only minutes from the city centre by train though she rarely usedpublic transport, since she had the company car with secure parking bothhere and at work, and parking there was free too. Not much incentive touse public transport at all then, when she enjoyed privacy. She liked herpersonal space. There was nothing worse than being smartly dressed first thing in themorning and walking in the rain for a train and then being squashed upagainst a window by the fattest man who decided to get on, who thencoughed and snivelled throughout the journey, whilst subjecting you tohis lack of under-arm deodorant whenever he turned the pages of hisbroadsheet newspaper. No thanks. And they were always sweaty as well shethought shuddering, even in the middle of winter. Yuck. In fact now shethought about it, she didn't go out much at all. Her home was her haven, and she could always find things to occupyherself there. She still enjoyed the theatre, cinema and so on, and itwas great being so near.
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