The Trouble With Inflation

Last Thursday I went to a wine tasting event with some girlfriends.

I think I've talked about the Bacchanalian Society before. Picture it: A thousand people, 600 bottles of wine, a bit of food and a lot of fun.

The wine throws so freely that even one of the volunteer hosts passed out.

Luckily I was a bit more in control of my faculties.

Anyway.

We moved on to the afterparty at J. Hall after the event, and it appeared the crowd followed us. Mingling among the beautiful people was one handsome man whom I was fairly certain I knew.

I didn't think much of it though, this person after all, was Kentucky Royalty. A former baller who didn't lead the team in free throws or dunks, but had enough time on the pine to make a name for himself.

But what would this wayward Wildcat be doing so far from the celebrity and fame in Lexington?

I didn't give it much thought until my friends and I passed this character a couple other times.

Finally I got the up the gumption and asked him.

As soon as I opened my mouth, his friends shook their heads at the sky as if to say, Oh no. Here we go again.

And the tall, rusty brown haired man in the white, button-down shirt confirmed that yes, he was in fact A.B. Klevins*.

We exchanged pleasantries Hello, I'm Kate So-and-So, Class of 99. Oh, it's so nice to see you this close to the Mason - Dixon line. blah blah blah.

My friends and I moved on and headed out to the back patio before we meandered towards the dance floor. That's when A.P. came over and asked if my friends and I would be interested in heading his friends' direction to talk to them.

I said maybe and danced a little more before I approached my friends.

Oh.My.God.A.B.Wantstotalktomewehavetogoseehisfriends.

Yeah, I was a little bit excited.

We walked that way and I asked A.B. how he felt about being recognized in Cincinnati, considering it's not Lexington and all (I realize now how insulting that sounds). I asked him what he's up to (working at P & G and considering getting his MBA) and where he lives (with a roommate in Ft. Wright). We talked about how much we both miss Ramsey's and he mentioned that he'd never been to the Montgomery Inn before. I told him it was great and that's when he turned to my friends (who had long dropped out of the convo and started talking amongst themselves) to ask if they've ever been.

The scene pretty much was like how a record would sound if you could still hear it playing after you pulled the cord out of the outlet.

Oh. So that's what this was all about.

A.B. wanted to talk to my friends.

And herein lies my complaint: Why did he approach me on the dance floor if he wanted to talk to my friends? Why didn't he have the cojones to chat with them directly? I suppose some of Kentucky's greatest athletes fail to learn the skills of artful conversation when they're busy studying tactics on the hardwood. And I suppose UK's basketball alums get complacent and used to being pursued by a bevy of women.

They never actually learn how to pursue a woman on their own because they're so busy beating them off with a stick.

Oh, poor A.B. He doesn't realize he's now a little fish in a big pond.

It's pretty sad, actually.

*The name is changed for obvious reasons, but any true Wildcat fan will know who I'm talking about. KtG