Good Times

I went on a long walk today. I'm living in a new town, now. A college town. And I'm surrounded by 18-22 year olds all day, who wear ridiculous slippers and tight black pants that might or might not be considered leggings and who seem only to eat Doritos and Pop Tarts. I couldn't even eat like that when I was there age. Rather, I ate like that. And it wasn't good.

During the walk, I saw a lot of things that reminded me of my college years. Guys in Jeep Wranglers, who reminded me of Ace, the best looking Indian man I've ever known, or even seen. He had a hard topped grey Wranger...or maybe it was black...and eyes like liquid midnight.

I saw rocks painted with various slogans and mottos, which made me think of a spring night when I and my friends managed to paint a logo on a train trestle bridge, in the rain no less, running out of the road whenever a car drove by.

I saw a guy walking home at about 9 a.m., clearly wearing last night's party clothes. He didn't smile back when I grinned at him. That made me think of the first week or two of school, when the fraternities would set up donut stands in front of their houses every morning to sell breakfast to the freshmen girls who would be walking back to their dorms after a hard game of Century Club and whatever sexual experience she was talked into afterward.

I went to Target, which reminded me of long afternoons, shopping with friends, smelling every single scent of deoderant in the store, looking at all of the greeting cards and ending up buying laundry detergent or something similarly lame.

And I sat on the other side of the door from a table full of girls, talking about people they knew, stories they'd heard, things they'd done together. Listening to them was like watching my friends and I at our table at dinner in Wright Quad, sitting there rehashing the day, talking about what party we'd be going to that evening, figuring out who was going to get beer, laughing about someone's boyfriend. Just being together.

I hope they enjoy it while it lasts.