Wednesday, May 4, 2011

letter seven


Dear Bartender,

today is the day. the day when our financials and loan request are presented to the committee. we don't know what time this is happening. and, when i asked you today, you said it made your stomach turn and that you'd rather not think about it. throughout all of the other bar buying opps we've had, we've never been this far. this close. this nervous.

phish allowed you to chill out last night. well, since last thursday, really. you called this break your mini-summer vacation. and, somehow, we both forgot about everything going on, just danced and enjoyed time with our friends, until you said that tomorrow (today) is the day adulthood starts. i stopped dancing and wondered why i hadn't addressed the date. sneaky lil bugger. you smiled, nodded toward the band and resumed dancing with a quick mention about if anyone is going to push you into this new phase, it's these guys.

so. now. we wait.

the decision is out of our hands. i really hate that lack of control.

we are "before the bar" right now. and, if that panel decides in our favor, a single e-mail or phone call will shuffle us rapidly toward everything "after."

are you ready? are we?

i think so.

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