cure for the uninspired

Before 2011 ended, some friends from Pantas and I got together at Franco’s house (well at their guest house/hut) for overflowing drinks and pseudo-intellectual a.k.a. drunk conversations.

But what exactly happens when Pantas gets together?

Apart from Kevin and Biboy swearing they saw something (ufo?) plummeting from the heavens to a patch of foliage at Franco's backyard, there's also: drunk drinking (of Pen's twinkie boom which proved itself quite the backstabber come next morning); drunk game of I've never; drunk karaoke; drunk stargazing; drunk discussions while stargazing; drunk conversations on Walking on Alligators. Or, was it of the story Franco wrote in sophomore year?

Morning after: preparing breakfast in behalf of the hungover; how many girls does it take to cook french toasts? 3 – KJ, ate Krista and Cara; scrambled eggs and pancit canton to mimic early LB mornings; endless hangover (I'm lookin at you, Kevin).

I was inactive during my last year as a member of Pantas, and so was Biboy. The two of us conniving for a year-end Pantas get-together seems a bit sketchy from the get-go, but not only were we parched for good drinks, but also for good conversations. We were all in need of honest-to-goodness emotional and intellectual fill. This is a good enough bait to get everyone else to come.  Well, not really. I have a long list of people who I wanted to see but didn't make it. Those who came, however, seemed exactly like the only people I need.

I'll travel all the way to Antipolo for these people. Every weekend, if schedule allows. Everyday, if my liver can take that much drinking. But work will only allow us rare, random meet-ups such as this one. And this makes it even more special.

It's true what they say. Mornings at Franco's are enchanting. They'll last all day unnoticed.