Andy turned 25 this weekend, marking not only what would be his leap into adulthood if he was into that kind of stuff but also his "I refuse to meet any new people after the age of 25" campaign. To celebrate we went to the huge, ridiculous and outrageously crowded food cart festival. The line was literally winding along the entire building and two blocks down the street, but in the spirit of the starving orphans we are, we waited. And stood on our tippy toes (ok, the boys didn't prolly) to catch a glimpse of food through the fences. And drank awful 10 calorie flavored waters. We did feel very metropolitan riding the Max there. I felt a mix of dread from the memories of my old office commute and an overwhelming lack of tattoos and black hair dye. Visions of waffles dripping in buttery sugar danced in my head.
