We perfected the weekend. We dialed it in right down to washing the last dish and changing the sheets. Everyone is sober and prepared for the week ahead. It’s kind of a letdown to get to this point. If only life could be bike rides, karaoke, and flea markets all the time. Things are never that easy. If I could load up on that Glitter Chariot and ride to that eternal after party I would, but some of us are left here on Earth to work hard and suffer.
I enjoyed one of those crystallizing crashes of clarity while flying down the Cadillac trail. A yellow-jacket punched into my exposed midriff and before I could choose otherwise my right hand was clasping its buzzing fury as my left hand gently pushed the bars past plane and I ejected thinking, “this is how it happens, just like this.” I mean injury of course, and pain, and a suspension of the good times in exchange for character-building opportunities.
The hornet escaped, or was crushed in the dust like me. I laid very still and conducted the physical inventory. Mystery was two beats ahead of me and unaware, just racing to the water fountain like a hundred other rides. All body parts passed visual inspection, with a few minor bloody scrapes. Hand, hand, knee, knee, foot, foot and I was standing. I felt euphoric, giddy, and most of all lucky. Sometimes you crash and nothing bad happens.