The (Mostly) True Story of Two Musicians and a Summer in Boston

Last summer, I went to Boston for a music program and met up with a bunch of awesome musicians, people from all over the world with all sorts of talents. My two roommates, for instance, were super chill guys. Sam was a saxophone player from Santa Barbara and George was a guitarist from Chicago. Super cool, like I said.

Well, George got really envious of Sam for having a bunch of fans back in Santa Barbara, because apparently he was big on the scene back there and knew how to blow a really nice sound. He was also really full of hot air, liked to talk himself up a fair bit, but he was cool enough otherwise that we were willing to overlook it. Anyway, George got determined and enlisted my help in going out and getting himself some fans of his own.

We went out and played some shows around town, George could really spin a tune and pretty soon I had his style wired. I plugged us online a few times, and before we knew it, we'd acquired fans. And almost immediately, George brought one back to our room.

Now, since it was just us three, no adult supervision and it was during the day, things got pretty hot and steamy pretty fast. We decided to get down to business: we screwed her, then she blew us. Man, she was really turned on, seemed like she couldn't blow enough. And then, when things finally started cooling down, we were wiped, sweat was just dripping everywhere. So we got right up close to that fan, right in the air current, and basked in the gloriously cool air coming from our home-repaired, online-rented floor fan.