I was getting ready for some folks to come over for my birthday when Doc popped his head in the bathroom and told me that Dale from Passion of the Dale was here.
"Really?!?" I asked, stunned.
"Yeah," Doc said, "He came all the way from Canada for your bithday."
"Huh," I said and started to put on makeup.
Once I was ready, I tried to decide how to best make my entrance. I went through a couple of ideas in my head before stepping into the garage and declaring, "Wilkommen, bien venue, welcome!"
Dale was sitting on the couch in our garage talking to my Uncle Charlie. He looked up and tipped his beer at me and went back to his conversation. I began to look around the garage and wonder what Dale's impression was. I knew he was judging and that he had an opinion. I was very curious. But this curousity hampered me. I couldn't think of anything to say to him or anyone else in the room. And I felt bad that he had driven all this way to be so underwhelmed. Until, of course the zombies arrived.