Within the Clock's Shadow
January 19th, 2007.
Previously…
So Gina came and went much quicker than I would have liked. Still, Miami was a 4-hour drive away. All I had to do was hop in my car and off I was. Missed that kid, always will. Time splits families apart in so many ways, but in the same breath it brings those self same people together. I wondered when Keary, Gina, and I would be in the same place again.
I honestly was in a slump. No trying to fake it much anymore. Leaving town seemed promising, and I admit, it was mighty tempting. My only worry was having a plan. That had to be impossible. I’ve lived life without any semblance of a ‘plan’ for years now, and things turned out for the best. But right now, it was different.
It wasn’t the whole age anxiety issue. 30 around the corner, but it couldn’t have been that. The age thing was just a joke in the back of my mind. I had very few regrets, and everything that happened in the past 10 years happened. I’ve just dealt with it all.
In reality, I was a lucky guy. There were several times where I should have been killed or murdered or just gone. And in the end, everything fell into place, like dominos. Waiting for this next row of dominos in my life was the problem.
And now…
Friday night, and I wanted to get out of the house to unwind. Deborah’s farewell party going on, but I got lost (left the directions on my bloody desk, it figures). I ended up hanging out at I-Bar. Usually I would have been over at Antigua with Red and the girls, but they weren’t downtown. So, it was a solo night. Jay hooked me up with a DUI band, and in I strolled, where I took a stool at the bar.
Kelly mixed me the usual, and I turned around to take a look outside the windows, out at the street. The traffic was getting backed up on Orange Avenue, like it always did at that time of night. Not too late, but not early anymore. Friday night wasn’t my thing admittedly. Too many yuppies, emos, wandering about. Honestly, they weren’t yuppies like most people imagine, but they were the 21st century version of yuppies, with better fashion sense (though that’s debatable).
Fortunately, I ran into some familiar faces, most notably Bob, Rick, and Joel. We sat around and joked a bit about guy topics, that sort of thing. Girl watching, cracking up on the emo, and just having random conversations. It was a better night than staying home, so I didn’t mind too much. But I did go home a lot earlier than usual.
January 20th, 2007. Going home early didn’t help the hangover. Sleeping in all day did, though. Lots of noise in the house, as family was once again over, and my grandmother was acting a tad more tetchy than usual. It was her thing. I didn’t want to have to deal with all of the unnecessarily raised voices. So I turned up the volume on my speakers and blasted some house music to keep me in the proper mood. I hopped on my computer and went to surfing away. If all of that happened in the morning, things would be fine. But my clock read 5 p.m. Wicked. Must have been one of those nights.
Later on, I remembered that Saturday night television was very much the wasteland that it was. So sad, really. The only things worth watching was a college basketball game. And they were teams that I even cared about. So, it was time to get out of the house. It was Saturday night, and those were always a good time, as there were less of the yuppie population out, just the lot that liked to run with their mates, swill good drink till last call, and dance till the lights came on.
After an awkward episode involving my car keys, off I was to downtown. I got extremely lucky and found a great parking spot. The parking spots were becoming less and less. Sooner or later and everyone would be forced to pay to park in those gaudy, tall car parks (some of which were still being built, most visibly the one across the O.P.D. (Orlando Police Department, for the uninitiated) substation on Washington Street. There was no way I’d pay for parking as long as I paid taxes. It was just the principle.
Saturday night was the usual. The usual being I-Bar. There weren’t a lot of other places to go that had a proper scene, good people, and kick ass bartenders. Antigua’s 80’s Night was good, but the patrons were a little on the far end of my age bracket. Divorced soccer moms/dads, disgruntled school teachers (some on the verge of meltdown), and really old fogies with delusions of how things were in 1979. Pretty scary lot. Bar-B-Q Bar was okay, but crowded. The Social was hit or miss. Everywhere else was cookie cutter. You know, the martini bar or new age yuppie bar or meat market or too ghetto.
I-Bar fit just right, the only place in town where I didn’t have to worry about anything. The only downside was that it was a small crowd, and everyone knew everyone else. And if no one knew you, they knew someone who knew you. Six degrees of separation indeed! In some ways, it was akin to being back in grammar school. Without the bag lunches, double-dutch, and freeze tag.
So there I was, in the school yard, glancing about. My old mates Russ and Meredith, new parents, were out. Their kid had a sitter, so they decided to escape for the night. Not bad. They were doing well, and were happy. I left them to their own devices, as I found Genevieve in her usual spot. Liz, Chris, Jamie, and I joked around about the crowd, which was full of some of the unusual lot, people we didn’t know, but looked way out of place. Fishes out of water they were.
I got a moment with Jon and we talked about plans that we had with Super Jenn. He had a lot of interesting input, and it was good to hear from him about everything. The West Coast was looking better and better. The Reverend Floss was also there, chaperoning a wildly entertaining Stephanie. It was like a reunion! Cue the music!
Shawn and Countessa (and her man candy) were there too, and I caught a glimpse of the former displaying his lack of dance moves once again. The man had no shame, only moxie. Typical New Yorker. I should have figured. The dancing lasted a while, as I traded dance partner for dance partner, just caught up in the music. Life, for those fleeting minutes, was good. Hell, better than good. I shrugged the world off of my shoulders, letting it all slip away, if only for an instant.
Deborah showed up much later, so I got to say goodbye to her. Unfortunately, my one of my favorite shot taking partners was off to parts far away. But that was what life was all about. Coming and going and finding your way. She was always up for a Redheaded Slut, which was probably the best shot on the planet.
I got really tired, so I spent some time chatting it up with everyone who decided to sit near my perch, observing the lights and taking the energy in. My watch said it was very late. Later than I wanted to be out, but I wondered if time ever mattered. It didn’t. There was either plenty of time or none at all. Big Rick let me hang around and entertain a few friends of his, so we got a table and talked for a time. I didn’t ask for their names, but they were from Miami, so I told them about Gina and about what she was doing, so we at least had something to talk about.
My watch read 3:30 a.m., so I made haste to my car, but got suddenly stopped by Tim, who was conspicuously absent the whole night. We talked for a few, and I found out Genevieve was moving on to greener pastures. First I heard of it, which was a surprise. Still, change was change, and this was another one. Though it was going to take getting used to. I made a point to hang with him more, as I’d been really invisible lately. Getting more out of club experiences was the plan, but right now the job hunt was more important. Hooray for responsibility.
January 21st, 2007. More partying. I had to get it all out of my system. Well, Sunday night really wasn’t about partying, to be honest. I spent a lot of the night at I-Bar talking to James and Adam, not a lot of time dancing. My feet still hurt. It was the swansong to this weekend, the last one where I’d be out in a long while. It was time to hunker down and really press the issue with looking for work.
There were a few “nuclear” options that I had regarding my situation, but it wasn’t too much to worry about. I wouldn’t let things come to that. I was sure that I’d come out on top. Patience was the word this grasshopper had to understand.
Next: Sake, short shorts, random camera angles, a flashback. And hello, 1996?! Yes, a tale of high speeds and heretics.