Perfect weekends are hard to come by. Either they end too soon or something happens that changes the atmosphere of the weekend. For example, a plan falls through or a Debbie Downer enters the mix. Those weekends always disappointed me and left me craving more, wondering why something always had to spoil good fun.
So, for my own entertainment, I planned my ideal weekend, and now you're here reading about my ideal weekend. Congratulations.
I would like to start with a disclaimer: my ideal weekend would last much longer than the customary two days following a five-day work week. But I shall try to tailor my fantasy to fit into a mere 48 hours to make it (slightly) more realistic.
First, all of my closest friends would visit for a Harry Potter marathon, and only the top three would stay the whole time. We would sit and hold sleep-deprived conversations about nothing in particular until my phone would ring.
On the other end would be the Doctor. You know, from Doctor Who. Oh, and he would be with Merlin from the other BBC show because the Doctor was trying to convince the TV network to make another season or two of Merlin. But, I digress.
The Doctor would ask me about my involvement with an undiscovered, yet totally identifiable, species known as the know-it-alls. His mission would be to destroy them.
We would discuss his plans over coffee and ice cream. With our bellies filled with dairy and caffeine, we would step into the TARDIS and travel back to the origin of the know-it-all species. And meet the dinosaurs, of course.
I would ride on a pterodactyl and infiltrate the nest of the queen of the know-it-alls.
We would compete in a trivia competition, and I would beat her on an impossible question like "How many words are in the English language?" and I would say 1,025,109.8 with such pride and conviction that an outsider might assume that I was part of the know-it-all species.
The Queen would acknowledge my skill with defeat and admit that she did not, in fact, know it all.
The Doctor would award me with King Arthur's sword.
I would hang the sword on my wall and admire it with my top three friends. After a few moments, I would ask the Doctor for a favor.
"I would like to meet Shakespeare," I'd say.
Shakespeare would compliment my comprehensive inclination for alliteration and rhyme, and we'd drink chocolate milk before it was invented on the stage of an empty Globe Theater before the fire, watch the stars, and promise to meet again soon.
And that is my ideal weekend.
