February 20th, 2004
Air
Last night the walls of my apartment began speaking to me in riddles so I decided it might be best to venture into town before their babbling made sense. No sooner had I locked my door, I realized that I live on a Hellmouth. The Hellmouth of boredom. That wasn?t going to stop me tonight. I needed some ?air.?
One Night in Huntsville
Huntsville by night is a curious thing. The traffic lights go idle. The roads clear of vehicles. The night people creep onto the streets. You don?t see them often. They sort of scurry on the periphery. A street cleaner once told me about a night person that they call Cthuhlu Man. He told me the reasoning for that name involves garbage bins, rotten food and a pizza box. I didn?t ask for more details.
This night none of that matters. This night, I?m going to Hump?s.
Humphrey?s was d-e-a-d. And that spells vacant. No one was out tonight. No one but the normal upper middle class crowd and even they were sparse. I wonder if they?ve ever heard of Cthulhu Man. Why I think a different crowd will spontaneously take over that bar and turn it into a swinging rock/jazz/coffee club is beyond me. I hear that repeating an action multiple times and expecting a different result is the first sign of psychosis. I wonder if I should worry.
Sad Songs Pay so Much
Gullotta and Robby (bartending friends of mine) were working and that was something at least. With the bar damn near vacant, I decided to work on my new writing project. Odd as it is, sometimes I need to get away from home for my mind to become super creative. Downing a few Yuenglings while there don?t hurt either. Before I got a chance to grab a corner of the bar and get to geeking out on my notepad, I ran into a guy I knew from college. Chuck was back in town and ready to tell me his latest sad story. Mind you I haven?t seen the guy in maybe a year or three and before that it was 5 or 6 years. But each time he had a sad song to sing.
After the violins were done, he told me all the good stuff that?s been going on. New car. New job. New apartment. Traveling the world. Bastard. I can?t even get the funds to leave Huntsville and he?s been all over the world. Well not all over, but to more than one place that I?d like to visit. As he?s telling me his good fortune, my mind begins to plot and scheme: ?Maybe I should be a bartender. Many a stranger has overshared their life history to me. If I listened to all these upper middle class woes with a look of concern, I could clean up on tips.?
On hearing my name I snap back to this world and greet Blake, another bartender friend. He?s there with girls a plenty. Let me re-phrase, hot girls aplenty. I bet he met them while at work. I definitely need to look into this tending bar thing.
Last Call
The lights come up. That time has come. Chuck pays for my beer. A gesture that I can?t turn away these days. I thank Chuck and he goes on his way. I say my other goodbyes and I?m out the door. I roam to a place in 5 Points that was rumored to be open 24 hours. A rumor that turned out to be a damn lie. My new mission is to get a decent, scenic night photo of the city from atop Monte Sano.
Those little white dots are proof of yet another bust. The rent is due on those Yuenglings. I?ve got to find a pit stop and fast. It was a long ride to my, much needed, pee break.
Open 24 hours a day and 7 days a week. You gotta love capitalism. Another night is done. I?m still full of ideas and still broke. At least I got my ?air.?
