“Aw shii!” one of the thugs said. “You a stormtroopa?”
“Ah dog, and he’s got Leia with em. She fiiine.”
On the third floor of a Nashville Radisson, in the triple doored executive suites, I drank luke-warm beer in the company of Cloud, Desmond, and a slew of other dorks.
A man dressed in a stormtrooper outfit made of the same glittering material as a discoball dominated the techno-thumping dance floor, along with the afro-buns of his companion Leia. Meanwhile BAR2-D2 drifted aimlessly about, offering beers and mixed drinks that fellow nerds were too awed to accept.
We stayed until around 2am, then found a Wafflehouse and discussed life, love, and politics.
A week from this day, we will be bound in holy wed-lock. What a delighful life we live.
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