Week three

October 18, 2015

Three weeks in. 

Last night my definition of ‘weird,’ was expanded against my will.

Initially when I gave the preview of this post I thought things like some drunk girl peeing behind my car at one A.M. or watching a dude stop to consecutively use 23 Q-Tips on the sidewalk (I counted 'em once he’d moved on) were strange.  Don’t feel bad, JonSnow, I also knew nothing.

Last night the temperature dropped into the forties.  Determined not to use the car heater again before the first snow I awoke and simply twisted into my second blanket.  Curling back into my foot-through-the-steering-wheel positionTM, I closed my eyes.  

Then someone screamed outside.

Drunk assholes, I thought as I began to drift off.  I've recently become bored of my usual haunts and have since expanded to any side streets lined with trees (street light blockers).  For those who may be unaware, Lakewood, Ohio holds a demographic and a geographic city gold medal:  Largest Gay Community (barely coming out over San Francisco*) and most bars per square mile.  The result of the latter fact is that every suburban street in this town intersects with a commercial street, and therefore, a bar.

Screaming assholes are nothing to concern one’s self with.  Screaming assholes who steadily become louder as they rush toward you are slightly more alarming.

I grunted, raising my body on drowsy arms, and wiped the condensed breath from the windshield.  A white blur bounced along the sidewalk.  Without taking my gaze away I fumbled with my right hand on the passenger seat.  My hand found my glasses and brought them to my face.

The noisy white blur became a kid wearing a light grey Ramones hoodie in his twenties.  But wait!  Someone was chasing him!  I thought of the movie prop revolver (which only fired blanks) in my trunk.  As Ramones’ pursuer came into focus I dismissed any heroic notions.  His potential assailant was a rather short, stick-thin girl with pink in her otherwise bleached hair.

I must admit, I was slightly let down at seeing her.  In the moments after realizing I was watching a chase in progress I had imagined a handful of much more entertaining possibilities... Did Ramone run out on his bar tab with the bartender at his heel?  Was Ramone spotted by some guy whose girlfriend he had slept with?  Was Ramone running from a serial killer who had already taken out everyone else in his house?  No (sigh), it was just some drunken overdramatic couple having some fun after the bar.  Then, right next to my car, the girl shrieked and tackled Ramone to the ground.

At some point lights began to come on in the houses around the scene.  I didn’t notice until the whole thing had played out, but they probably started soon after the tackle.  The two rolled between sidewalk and grass, punching and yelling and I think even biting each other.  If they would have looked up, they would have seen me goggling through my streaked and dripping passenger side window like a total freakin’ weirdo.  Then again, I wasn’t reenacting Wrestlemania in the middle of the night on someone’s lawn.  Anyway, they didn’t glance up.

The whole fight was probably over in ten seconds, but in comic book form it would’ve filled a dozen panels.  If I were to attempt to transcribe their tussle dialogue it would read like someone with epilepsy, ADD, and Tourette’s...  so of course I have to try:

(Pink Hair leaps) “HA!”
(She wrenches Ramone to the cement) “Gah!  Urrr!  Fuhhzzzch!”
“Stupi - (they roll)“
“Fuck! My - (Pink Hair punch)“
“Fake blonde!”
“No! Jus - a (Pink Hair slap) unt!”
“And - (Pink Hair smack) blow you! Fkr (Pink Hair punch) fkr (jab) fkr (jab) fkr (jab).”
“AH!  AH!  AH!  AHH!  HEY!”
“Fliggerblrv (Pink Hair knee to crotch) UH!”

Then the feisty chick lay on the ground catching her breath as Ramone scrambled up and ran off.  I was about to get out of the car and ask if the Pink Hair was okay when she sat up, lit a cigarette, looked around, then lay back down.  Never wake a sleeping tiger, I thought.  I took my hand off the handle.

After a few moments, some old guy in plaid boxer shorts a few houses away opened his front door, spied the girl, and yelled something at her.  The girl sat up and looked over at Boxers.  She stood slowly then walked back toward the bars, presumably to find a new beating victim.  Boxers and I watched her go, and as fun as it would be to gossip and speculate with him for a bit, I just started my car and found a quieter spot a few blocks away.  I had to work the next morning.

So that night holds first place for coolest (or weirdest) thing I’ve witnessed yet in my car.  Fingers crossed that a new event will edge it out before my adventure is complete.

Next post:  Days, Nights, Budgets, Horizons

Triple-dog-dare (also a good date idea):  Find and walk through 3 unmarked, unlocked doors that you’ve never been through.  If there are people beyond the door, just act like you belong.  Make up some excuses or stories beforehand if you’re not good in a pinch.  These doors are everywhere.  I promise a night of fun discovery and adventure.  What’s the worst they can do?  Say you have to leave?

*With a bit of research I discovered this no longer to be true, which I find rather sad.

My email:  mccoynstard@gmail.com