...there was a plane ride. From the other side of the world.
There was jet lag. Savage jet lag. The sort of jet lag that addles your mind and derails your train of thought halfway through. Determined not to submit to sleep before times, and thus prolong the disorientation way into the next week, I had agreed to meet my housemate in a bar in El Cerrito. It was his birthday, and there was to be a celebration. There would be girls there, he told me. Girls who knit.
I ordered a rum and coke from the bar. I had some vain hope that the meagre caffeine ration would sustain me. I sat down with the party, trying desperately to say something coherent, to get involved in the conversation. In retrospect, I realise that, in my confused state I was vulnerable to suggestion, but then they do say that hindsight is 20-20...
They were passing needles around, smiling, laughing. Inviting me to try. Just the one time. Go on. Everyone else is enjoying it. Don't be a square.
I guess the pressure got to me. I took a needle. And then another. After all, I reasoned, it won't hurt to have a go. And it felt... good.
Before I knew it, I'd knitted eight rows.
I'm not sure what it's going to be yet. I guess it's going to be something blue. And rectangular. Or maybe square. But that's knitting for you - who knows where it's going to take you?