Trying not to get too excited.

I have a best friend. And who doesn't, really, best being relative. But my best friend Scott has been my best friend since I was fourteen or fifteen. We met when I was thirteen, I think, through our mutual friend Jeremy (from whom Scott eventually usurped best friend status. But that's okay, because Jeremy had usurped best friend status from Daryl not too long before. So it goes.). There was some friction at first, as is often the case when one person brings together two friends from different circles. But we rather quickly formed a tight trio. There was much to learn on both sides of the triangle. Jeremy and I had our pet pastimes; so did he and Scott. It was fun and exciting and sometimes a little boring exploring each other's worlds, seeing what we all liked to do together. Your typical adolescent role play was a hit, as were movies, comics, music, video games, and food. Playing with Star Wars figures, not so much. I just never got into that.

I was always fascinated by Scott's imagination. He was often the driving force behind our roleplaying. He had the ideas for the plots. He had the ideas for the settings. He always had to be Luke when we three played Star Wars, though. And Jeremy had to be Han, so that left me with Chewie, or Lando, or even Biggs. Never Obi Wan or Leia, though. Kids. But in rural south Louisiana, a white boy pretending to be Lando was a pretty big cultural stretch.

Eventually, around age fifteen, we developed enough trust that he let me in on his big secret: he was creating a TV show. And what a world he had invented. We sat for hours one night while he unfolded the grand setting he had been working on since he was eleven or so. The Tales of the Teppups (now known only as the Usari) would have it all: science fiction, girls, action, sex, adventure, sex with girls. We were fifteen for pete's sake. But the setting captivated me the most, along with the intricately plotted backstory, taking a small team of humans across the galaxy to topple an empire. Story arcs fit for three or four years of twenty episode seasons, all linked together coherently. And this was well before Babylon 5, mind you. At some point he or Jeremy must have suggested we try playing in that world, and "doing Us" was born. That's what we called it, or little code. "C'mon, let's go do Us." Us, because, as you might guess, we weren't playing Star Wars characters, or Indiana Jones, or James Bond. We were just us, on a grand adventure to rescue the girls and defeat Relnek once again.

We eventually stopped this freeform LARPing, more for lack of time than anything else. There was work, then college in another state, then internships, graduate school, and careers in yet more states. Scott never made his Tales into a TV show, but the dream has always been there, on the back burner. His Ibsenian life lie. But through it all, we've kept close, seeing each other only every three years or so on the winter vacation rotation. Of all my old friends, he is the only one who I still have things in common with, who I can carry on an hour long conversation about nothing with. We still have congruent tastes, we still manage to introduce each other to new things, to surprise each other and comfort each other.
So, what is the imminent excitement to which I alluded in the subject line? For the last several years Scott has become increasingly disgruntled with life in the South. He chafes at the conservative attitudes of his peers, the small minded injustices that persist to this day. He has made noises often about moving here, but has never followed through, even coming to the point of making plans for packing and transport once and backing out, succumbing to the fear of change that can easily overcome the financially insolvent. My (secret) attitude has been, "I'll believe him when he walks through my door."

But, that may all soon change. I just talked to him a few days ago and he has officially not renewed his apartment lease, which ends March 28, and apprised his boss of his plans. The current plan is for him to stay two or three months with his parents after that, to save some dough and get rid of items he can't really travel with, then head up here in the summer, cramming his life into his car. I'm getting excited, but at the same time, I'm waiting for the hammer to fall. I can hear the excitement in his voice, though, coupled with apprehension. After all, this isn't exactly the best time to pull up roots, even as tenuous as his, and move to a new location without the clear prospect of a job waiting for you. He'll stay here with us while he job hunts and looks for an apartment. Of the whole venture, that aspect is the one we most fear going sour. I have no illusions; I love Scott, but I have always known I could never live with him for long. While our tastes are congruent, our day-to-day lives are not very. I worry most about the stress on Heather. She's a very solitary person, and when she's stressed she wants nothing more than to retreat to her cave and not deal with people. Just having visitors for christmas was enough to give her a fit, after coming out of several killer weeks at work. And Scott will be moving up here right about the time she switches over to the new job at GE's new fabrication plant in RPI's tech park. There's enough stress with that, without extended company. But hey, it was her idea in the first place that he move up here. 'Course, that was like five years ago.

Anyway, that's my excitement that I'm trying to quell. I just don't want to be disappointed again. My faux-bro is coming to town and I can't wait to show him around.
Q