The Bayou City Arts Festival was this last weekend. It's the first of many outdoor events capitalizing on the few weeks of the year in Houston where standing outside doesn't immediately leech all the moisture from your body.
A friend of ours had called up asking if The Wife and I wanted to go with him and his daughter to the Festival on Sunday. His wife had to work, and his little girl had been cooped up with a cold and could use the fresh air. Unfortunately, The Wife also had work she had brought home from the office, and She Who Shall Not Be Named was about to go down for a nap. Seeing the opportunity for a few outdoor beers, I agreed to go along.
Now, I'm not dense. Two dudes walking a toddler around an art festival gives a certain...impression. Then again, this isn't Kabul, so the worst we'd probably have been subjected to would have been snickers at our curious lack of fashion sense. And if any second glances were cast our way, I most likely wouldn't have noticed.
Mostly because there were a lot of women sans bra at the festival. My attentions were otherwise engaged.
I was at the festival on Sunday as well! Maybe we ran into each other and didn't even know it...oooooooh. Although, I WAS wearing a bra, so you probably wouldn't have noticed me. ;P
I've always meant to ask...does the whole "lone guy walking around with his infant" work as a surefire way to meet broads?
I inquire because I'm having to look into new angles, since that whole Big Brothers/Big Sisters thing ended...unpleasantly.
Lone male walking with child works like a charm...especially if you can work in that the mother died. Possibly in child birth. Walking around with another guy and with children makes you seem pretty gay.
Yeah, Thing. Like fireants on a meatpie.
Ah Pete. You didn't have to add the line about ogling bouncing tits. We know you're a manly man. Although putting your hand on your friend's ass probably wasn't a good move.
That doesn't sound nearly as "interesting" as the father and (grown) son travelling the small towns of central Germany and staying in a little inn, and trying to avoid the disapproving looks of the Hausfrau when she gave us the key to our room (with one small double bed).
"Heh heh. Er ist mein Sohn".
That only made it worse.