Jennifer D. Wade Journal

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I Hate When That Happens

Last night, I walked in on someone else's birthday party. 
Here's what happened.  Last week, Jill told me that she and her friend Audrey were going to a Jazz club in Scranton on Sunday, and did I want to go.  I said OK.  A couple days later, Jill told me that the Jazz club is not in Scranton, but just outside W-B (I've been there before), and that there would be a table of 6 or 8 people.
Sunday (yesterday) was also a baby shower for Megan, one of the reporters at work.  It was in the afternoon.  Jill and I drove up together, and on the way back, we arranged (I'm 99% sure) to meet at the Jazz club around 7:00 or 7:15.
I arrived at the appointed time and walked in the door, where I was greeted by somebody saying "Are they coming?"  I was like, who?  I don't know.  The said "the birthday boy."  I said I didn't know about any birthday.  I walked further into the club and realized that pretty much everybody there (about 50 people) was waiting for "the birthday boy" to arrive.  I also realized that none of the people waiting for him seemed to be Audrey or Jill!
Well, the birthday boy arrived, and as soon as I could, I made my way back outside and called Jill.  She asked me if I was at the house.  I said, no, I was at the club and where was she?  She said Audrey wasn't going and she didn't feel like going, either. 
So, in the end, we met at my house and watched TV. 

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