Meeting at The Goat

[Rosalyn]

I’m freezing my ass off standing outside a bar that is not ironically called The Goat that is so popular on a Saturday night that it has a line around the door. Apparently, Karaoke Night is a local favorite. I guess there isn’t a lot to do in a sleepy, country town like this, especially for college kids. There is no shortage of overpriced restaurants that close down before 8 p.m., but real hangouts are scarce. This is nothing like LA.

Also nothing like LA, this weather. It is FREEZING. Well, not technically, but 57 degrees feels like winter when I’m used to 80+ degrees at night in summer, especially in late August. Apparently in Arcata, August often means fog and sometimes rain. They blame it on living next to the coast but I call bullshit. LA is near the coast too and it doesn’t fog over in August.

Why did I move here again?

Oh, yeah.

I wrap my little red cloak around my shoulders a little tighter against the chill. I’m wearing a borrowed white velvet minidress fro