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Friday, July 07, 2006



You are 16 years old. It is a warm and humid summer's night. Too hot to stay inside without air conditioning and nothing is open except FoodLand and the bars. You call your friends, "Where you stay?" Other friends text message you, "Where you stay?" Eventually everyone congregates at the FoodLand parking lot.

There is a feeling in the air. An itch that can't be scratched. Something is going to happen. Something that will provide some excitement and alleviate that gut wrenching pain you get when you are so full of energy and there is absolutely nothing happening.

You form into groups, shifting from one to another. Hoping that someone, anyone, will have a "talk story" that you haven't heard more than fifty times.

You consider just screaming. Maybe that would create excitement.

The evening swings around midnight's pylon and you journey into those "forbidden hours".

The unrelentless pressure builds, a boiler with the safety valve docked. As you near the point of explosion, good judgement is the first casualty.

A victim appears!

Some drunk, wanting to drive through where your group has gathered. He waits patiently for everyone to clear a path but is deliberately ignored. Briefly taps his horn and someone yells "get fucked". Miffed, the victim gets out and seeks the "foul mouth" for revenge. He plows through the crowd, meeting resistance.

A shove here, a push there.

A punch thrown.

All your "brahs" join in the fray and the drama queens scatter to the periphery. Titilated that something, something exciting, had finally happened. The pressure release is almost sexual.


Screams, groans, shouts, crying, sirens, blue lights....

Quick! Run! Cops! Flee! Escape!

Gather later and inflate your exploits. Fodder for talk story this weekend.

Eventually, night ebbs to dawn.

Sleep, bored to death sleep.


Another boring one.

9 runs and just barely broke $140 on the meter. But my tips saved me. All were good, some were great.

The only long run was my first. A trip to OGG.
Two newlyweds headed home to NYC (Staten Island). Both are law students, looking forward to careers in the sanitized hallways of corporate law. Melissa was her name and his sounded like "Barrow", but that is not the correct spelling. Sorry.

Very sweet couple.


There may be a surprise waiting for me when I go in tonight. Art, the owner has told everyone about it. No one was supposed to tell me, they did.

I'll say more tomorrow.

I can keep a secret.


"Let's all be careful out there!"

1 comment:

Barry said...

I remember hanging out in the bank parking lot across from Sonic. We came up with all sorts of stuff to do - most weren't really smart: Drag racing, Chase scenes - when your freind pulled up - revved the engine and drove off, it was on, we knew every alley that cuts into a driveway (even if you have to cut through a yard) and chased until the lead lost you or until he gave up.

We also chased each other around with air/water fire extinguishers that we 'borrowed' from the local University.

Never did we beat someone up. Maybe it was upbringing, maybe we were just clever enough to make our own entertainment.

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