Death to Baltar

Baltar first came to my attention when I was 12 and looking for the bathroom. He gave me directions out the backdoor of the restaurant instead to the restrooms, and I ended up peeing behind a dumpster. Since we were saving pee at home for the garden, I wasn’t too weirded out by this. But that didn’t make me like Baltar. And it certainly made me remember him.

Fortunately for him, he had left by the time I got back inside.

The next time I saw Baltar, he was crashing my dad’s 50th birthday party. Dad was pretty gracious about the whole thing, but we knew Baltar had not been invited. I now understand that Baltar was Dad’s college friend that he regretted. But they lived in the same city and accidents happened.

This time I was ready for Baltar, but I still didn’t escape unscathed.