Flipping channels to get to the West Wing (watched weekly with a few college buddies), I happened to pass by Dawson’s Creek and was hit by a memory from a few years back:

In Cincinnatti with a couple of friends, partway through a Hornitos Tequila pub crawl. A shot of tequila at twelve different bars, a stamp from each, and we can return to the first for a free t-shirt. At the fifth or sixth stop, we pull up to the bar and sit down. There are five of us, two girls and three guys. The bartender walks up to our group, looks around, leans over and says quietly: You’re the kids from Dawson’s Creek, aren’t you. Quick glances amongst ourselves. Unison: Yes, yes we are.

I’ve still never seen the show, but I’m a big fan. For the price of one autographed napkin, it got us a couple of rounds of drinks and a really cheap Hornitos Tequila t-shirt.

This picture of me was taken by my father and dive buddy Andy
at about 45 feet below on Maui’s South-West coast.