DTM

Last night as Sheena strolled down the 3100 block of Penn Avenue in Pittsburgh, PA, a few blocks over from the infamous nightclub district known as The Strip, she wondered out loud why the policeman was standing at the place across the street at Art's Tavern. It had crossed our minds to go in for a bite to eat, but we got an odd vibe and stayed away. Probably a good thing.

So we just walked around, soaking in the atmosphere, until 9pm when the doors opened at our venue, The 31st Street Pub.

The show was a hoot. As the crowd spilled out onto the street at 2am, Sheena started dialing for a taxi. Busy signal repeatedly... Nothing coming down the street, so WE DECIDED TO WALK.

Down dark streets. Abandoned buildings. Construction zones. Dark parking lots, towards the 'main' Strip hoping to find taxis or a hotel where we could wait in the lobby while we tried calling again. Crowds of people wearing solid primary colours. I could say with a high degree of certainty that I was the only half-Ukrainian around. The walking companion recognized Sheena's profound discomfort and could see the flashbacks to The Incident in Glock Vegas being screened on her corneas and ran to flag down the lone taxi two blocks away. The equally shell-shocked commerce students from upstate understood our predicament and let us share the lift.

It struck Sheena that her mother would be mortified if she knew where her daughter was at that very moment.

Hence today's topic: The DTM. As Sheena's life started replaying through her mind, the swarms of youths got larger and noisier, so she began to organize the evening's story in order to effectively communicate the events to her sister. Each factual snippet and action was being mentally divided into that items that could be shared freely, and those which needed to be prefaced by the phrase.. "Don't Tell Mom....".

Our DTM rule has evolved to cover some pretty distinct categories over the years. What REALLY happened to that coffee table. Who actually broke up with whom. The number of sambuca shots consumed before Christmas brunch. The real reason the roommate was laughing during that funeral service. Why that city councillor left the house at sunrise.

And now we can safely add: Where Sheena Was on Saturday Night.