After a long hard night of grocery shopping, Dollhouse watching, and beer brewing, Krythe and I returned to the apartment. Around 1:00 am, Krythe recalled that it was now officially Pi Day, and we decided to go to House of Pies at 3:14 am to celebrate with pancakes, coffee, and most importantly of all, pie.

When we got there, the place was packed. It was probably the busiest I’ve ever seen a restaurant at three in the morning, and it was pretty diverse, too. Cops and stoners, cowboys and urbanites, teachers and students. Pi day couldn’t be THAT popular, could it? Probably not. The clubs just closed, the drunks were done driving, those 3:00 am munchies were hitting, and the rodeo was in town.

After a minute or two, we got a table in the smaller side room near what turned out to not be a pretty average group of five (the outspoken Mac geek, the socially irrepressible and obnoxious guy, the tell-it-like-it-is blonde, the possibly drunk flirtatious extrovert, and of course, the token black man). When we first sat down, they were talking about something I can’t recall, other than that I wouldn’t repeat it if I remembered.

They were fairly entertaining, and so Krythe and I didn’t really talk much for a while, aside from ordering pancakes, drinks, and pie. That’s when it happened. I accidentally made eye contact with the obnoxious one, and he drug is in in that awkward way that loud obnoxious strangers do when they notice you paying attention to them.

Now the flirtatious extrovert turns around and starts talking to us, even though the Mac geek doesn’t seem too happy about it. Mostly harmless stuff, like what we do, where we go to school. She starts laughing in an “oh crap” kind of way. She teaches at one of the local colleges. Interesting. She asks me what I want to do when I “grow up” and I mention that I’m interested in wine making and beer brewing. Something about Saint Arnold’s brewery comes up, and then she asks the question of the night: how old are you?

Now she’s embarrassed. After turning red and turning around, the group starts talking about me and how I’m like, “14 years old” (which isn’t true for those who don’t know me). Krythe and I eat our food, and I ignore requests from the obnoxious guy to, “whip it out so we can measure it”, because apparently if it’s big and I’m young it shouldn’t matter.

As the group is leaving, the flirtatious extrovert turns around again, looks at Krythe, and says, “make him grow up!” before grabbing onto the unhappy looking Mac geek and walking out the door. We soon got our pies, took one bite each, and admitted defeat at the hands of our food.

As we left the still packed bubble of diversity, I wondered to myself if the flirtatious extrovert would wake up in the morning and think, “oh, crap, what did I do last night”, or would she remember that young guy she mistakenly hit on? Could it ever be – a teacher and me? Extremely unlikely.

Too bad. She was cute.