New friend (I of II): Knew her name.

When I was out with friends at the bar last night, I met a girl who had graduated from my high school back in '89 and was friends with my good friend's older brother and some other people we know in common, though I had never met her before. When she told me her last name, it turned out that I knew her brother's last name; he was this guy who had died in a tragic dirt-biking accident back in the mid-70s, and they had started up a triathalon in his honor that my high school's athletic association runs every year. So, I started telling her about how I had volunteered for that and for two years I had handed out water, but one year I was by the finish line taking times of runners as they went by, and how then the damnedest thing that I ever saw was these runners staggering out to rest a bit and then going to the free food barbecue area to get buns without hamburgers and plop massive amounts of coleslaw on them and eat them that way raw. She was like, "Yeah, that happens," and then she told me that the year that she marked numbers on people was the last year she ever volunteered, because not only would people pull their shorts down so she could mark numbers on their legs, but a few guys had upper arms so hairy that her marker would get caught in the hair and couldn't hardly write. "You know, like when you made a 3 and shit," she was like.