As luck would have it

It started innocently enough. My friend P-girl and I decided to meet for a drink before proceeding to a tiki music extravaganza at another watering hole. We bellied up to the bar, ordered our preferred poisons from the bar-keep and settled back on our barstools to chew the fat.

Then, what's this? Well, looky here. A young gentleman wedges his way past my turned back to order a beer for him and his compadre. P-girl gives me the ole eyebrow arch to have me review the goods at hand. After a sly glance, I telegraph my verdict: thumbs up.

So the guy stays wedged as he squeezes his lime into his Corona's neck and proposes a toast to us. His friend, a sweatered and bespectacled lad, rides side-saddle beside him, smiling receptively, but speaking rarely as he sips his brewski.

After some small talk that reveals they are out-of-towners visiting for the weekend, we inquire as to their plans while in our fair city. A trip to the land of sand was the order of the next day. Would we lovely ladies care to join them for a little high desert hiking?

We giggle, fueled by mai tai and merlot, and play along as our would-be suitors suit themselves up for seduction. Then the leading man sweetens the deal. Not only would we be partaking in alcoholic beverages on the drive out, we could pop a few vicodin and/or some e once we got there. What with a tent or two and nothing else to do, we might even indulge in a little cheek-on-cheek cuddling? *Insert demonstration of said cheek contact here.*

Boy, some fellas really know how to woo a girl. Sedatives and spooning? Get over yourself!

When our Lothario in waiting detects our interest is flagging, he pulls out all the stops. For you see, his quiet companion who hails from England was about to return home to that merry ole, but chilly isle. Wouldn't it be a wonderful gesture to send him off with a happy memory that would burn sweetly and long in the embers of his brain forever?

"Well, it's not like he's going off to war," I countered.

At this point, the reticent bloke in the crewneck perks up and offers his peak powers of persuasion.

"Think of this," he grinned, "in one afternoon you could make up for all the wrong George Bush has done to my country."

Appealing to my political ideals in the name of a pick-up. Do I applaud that? Yes. Do I indulge that? Trekker, please.