The early morning sun meant a world of possibilities. Resisting the urge to think optimisitically about all I could accomplish, I knew where I was headed. I was on a pilgrimmage to find my bed. In my appartment, right where I left it when I went to work in the darkness 8 hours ago.
I walk a little slower than usual. No, not because of footwear I was wearing, but more or less because of the fatigue that managed to creep inside of me sometime close to 5 am. I was shocked and almost confused about the amount of people up and about. It's a holiday. It's 7:15 am. It just doesn't make sense to me.
Coming head on at fairly decent speed is a jogger. You can tell from the gait and the stride that she's been doing this for a while. I move over a bit on the sidewalk to give her the space to pass me without obstructing her flow. As she passes, she says something too me. I have no idea what, all I can hear is my Ipod. What she said was a phrase, definatly nothing along the lines of thank you. I knew there was more to it than that, but what?
And then I realized, what she had probably said was some sort of warning. About 20 feet ahead, there are a group of people hanging out on the sidewalk. The 5 girls are giggling, and almost screeching. They look tired. Makeup is smudged, clothes are now sporting stains . One can only imagine how mortified they would be if they knew what they really looked like after the night.
It's the boys that worry me most. One of the boys is blindfolded. His shirt is off and no where to be seen. He was leaning against a tree, and then he fell over. His buddy was trying to help him stand up. They're laughing because his friend keeps falling on the ground and is completly incapable of holding his own at this point.
Someone else stumbles out of the house and sits on the steps. Sipping something dark and brandy like out of a brandy glass, he smokes his cigarette in quiet reflection. Watches his 'friends' while taking solice in morning sun, a stiff drink and some nicotine on the run.
It must of been one hell of a night at that party. And more than one someone is going to have one hell of a hangover.
I'm nervous to pass them. The other option is to cross the 4 lanes of Robie Street. Granted there isn't much traffic at this hour of the day, its still a hassle. I assess the situation as I approach. Everyone oblivious to my existence. Oblivious to my judgement. I keep my distance, quicken my pace and steer as clear as possible while walking past. Eventually I look back out of concern to make sure everyone is okay. I'm now removed enough from the situation I'm wondering if someone should call the police to interpret the aftermath of the party.
As I near the corner of Peperrell, I see a police car turning right onto Robie Street. No doubt, I know where he is headed.
I walk a little slower than usual. No, not because of footwear I was wearing, but more or less because of the fatigue that managed to creep inside of me sometime close to 5 am. I was shocked and almost confused about the amount of people up and about. It's a holiday. It's 7:15 am. It just doesn't make sense to me.
Coming head on at fairly decent speed is a jogger. You can tell from the gait and the stride that she's been doing this for a while. I move over a bit on the sidewalk to give her the space to pass me without obstructing her flow. As she passes, she says something too me. I have no idea what, all I can hear is my Ipod. What she said was a phrase, definatly nothing along the lines of thank you. I knew there was more to it than that, but what?
And then I realized, what she had probably said was some sort of warning. About 20 feet ahead, there are a group of people hanging out on the sidewalk. The 5 girls are giggling, and almost screeching. They look tired. Makeup is smudged, clothes are now sporting stains . One can only imagine how mortified they would be if they knew what they really looked like after the night.
It's the boys that worry me most. One of the boys is blindfolded. His shirt is off and no where to be seen. He was leaning against a tree, and then he fell over. His buddy was trying to help him stand up. They're laughing because his friend keeps falling on the ground and is completly incapable of holding his own at this point.
Someone else stumbles out of the house and sits on the steps. Sipping something dark and brandy like out of a brandy glass, he smokes his cigarette in quiet reflection. Watches his 'friends' while taking solice in morning sun, a stiff drink and some nicotine on the run.
It must of been one hell of a night at that party. And more than one someone is going to have one hell of a hangover.
I'm nervous to pass them. The other option is to cross the 4 lanes of Robie Street. Granted there isn't much traffic at this hour of the day, its still a hassle. I assess the situation as I approach. Everyone oblivious to my existence. Oblivious to my judgement. I keep my distance, quicken my pace and steer as clear as possible while walking past. Eventually I look back out of concern to make sure everyone is okay. I'm now removed enough from the situation I'm wondering if someone should call the police to interpret the aftermath of the party.
As I near the corner of Peperrell, I see a police car turning right onto Robie Street. No doubt, I know where he is headed.
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