Old people play bridge at K&W and babies start to dream.
As the magical white luster rises up and consumes the sky,
Sketchy men come out, crime ensues and innocent people die.
In cute little neighborhoods, families join hands as dinner is prepared.
Dishes are cleared, kids are tucked in and Law & Order: SVU is aired.
Coffee makers are unplugged and doors are locked by those preparing for slumber.
My mouth agape, I gaze into the night. My plans for the evening are unencumbered.
Streets and 'hoods and cities and towns;
They all turn black and life shuts down.
There are no lights. The darkness bites.
I'd make this a rap, but I am white.
A cricket weeps.
A lurker creeps.
Flipped pillows and mouth hugs. Cozy fun is had all around.
Other than murderous screams from afar, there is no sound.
Just as REM ignites and natural clocks await the sun,
I judge those that sleep. I am better than you. Why? I run.
Poetic enough? Ok, cool.
For those of you who have expressed concern about my late night drollery, please let me explain. It is fun. Yes, it is slightly unsafe. Yes, it is a smidge creepy every now and again. Yes, bad things have happened to other people in similar scenarios. However, the same ramifications are fitting to other things in life as well. Marriage, babysitting, shopping at Wal-Mart and sorority date functions to name a few. I will give up all of the above, just let a girl run.
I know what you're thinking. Cut the butter, Benedict Arnold. Yes, Momma. Morgan runs with me. No, Bonnie. She did not run with me to your apartment. Yes, I know. Valid point. No, I shouldn't have. However, I done did it. No turning back now. Let's move on.
Let me lay it out for you.
Shall we set the mood?
Why:
- I don't like to be watched. One of you may not have grasped this concept yet, but let me reiterate. I do not like to be watched. Sure, watch me while I live day in and day out. Watch me eat. Watch me walk. Watch me judge someone else, no big. All of these I have come accustomed to because so many people admire me and wish they could be a part of my life. That's fine. But, please. Do not watch me run. Why? Uhm, well one. It's weird. Two, it is painful. Three, I am pretty sure watching a blind man with no toes try to successfully jump off of a diving board would be less disheartening. Yea, it's that bad. Basically, dark sky and heavy clouds disguise the blatant atrocity that I like to call running in public. Well, we can pretend.
- Not only is the temperature more bearable, but as previously noted - the evening serves as somewhat of a judgment free zone. I am clumsy. I stumble. If that were to happen in the middle of the day, I would play it off as either an intentional leap or a fun little skip. Effort is needed and pride is at stake. No thanks. However, if the same thing were to happen at night, I could just glare at the crack dealer that saw me trip, judge him for all that he is and continue on. No harm, no foul.
- The darkness covers up a multitude of other transgressions as well. As some of you learned in yea, i like dat., I have no will power when it comes to droppin' hot beatz. Music is satanic. By satanic I mean damn good, of course. If I like a song, my body knows it. I don't care if I am in the middle of the road. Hands go up. Fingers point to the left and right. Shoulders lean, no big deal. Although I enjoy myself, I promise you. No one wants to see that. Thank you, dark sky. I still have friends because you exist.
- Monday through Thursday, from around 10pm to 12am, there is a posse of boymen that congregate outside of Subway. From what I have observed, this two hour span serves as somewhat of a break for these hard working gentlemen. The first time I noticed them I assumed they were UT outcasts that weren't invited to the floor foam party or had grown tired of the wrap station available to them. However after repeated observation and careful inspection (or perhaps just looking at the logo on their matching shirts), I have obtained quite the insight. Three of the handsome lads are sub sandwich architects that probably specialize in slipping free cookies to average looking college girls and toasting my bread for 10 seconds too long, but as for the rest, I am still unsure. There are two more cuties that may or may not work at PizzAmerica. One props himself against the brick wall and never fails to have at least two empty plates in front of him. (Where da big boyz at?) He was wearing a PizzAmerica visor for an entire week once, but hasn't sported any headgear since. Now that you are invested, I will be sure to continue on with my investigation and keep you posted on his employment status. You're welcome.
- Don't dance when you're running with Morgan. She will scold you and sprint in the other direction.
- When there is a chance of a monsoon, stay inside. Changing socks six times isn't worth it. Promise.
- Avoid couples in the rose garden post 9pm. I guarantee you, they are not picking flowers. Yes, they may be on the amphitheater stage, but no. Their play is not for public viewing. Running stairs can wait. These kids are freaks.
- Make a playlist. Don't trust shuffle. Legitimately every other song will be Frank Sinatra and that is just depressing.
- Don't smile at the lady standing near Enterprise. Don't ask how she is doing. She thinks your name is Miranda. She offers you refreshments. Bitch is crazy.
- Do not acknowledge the large group posted up on the corner when they cheer for you as you pass by. They will continue to clap and cheer every time you pass them after that. It eventually gets awkward.
- Know where your friends and acquaintances live. You can make a fool of yourself if you don't know the people watching you. However, if you (unknowingly) pass by an apartment where a friend resides whilst hardcore skipping, bumpin' and 2-steppin' and hear your name being called from the balcony, that is not ok. It is not dark enough. Note the address and avoid them for six days.
- When you are jogging down a populated street and people are on their porches, turn off your music. I guarantee whatever they're going to say about you as you pass by is a lot more interesting than whatever Guster has going on.
- Do not make eye contact with dogs. They will bark at you. They will run after you. They will be a lot faster than you. You will die.
- Avoid the gray dog behind the wire fence. He hates you.
- Switch up your routes. People will start to think you are stalking them. Especially if for four nights straight you watch the same woman walk her same dog to the same tree for the same amount of time. Her name is Cindy. Her dog's name is Harley. It is an oak tree. 2 minutes and 42 seconds.
- Switch up your routes. You will start to realize that you are a stalker.
- Do not befriend the people standing outside of REX Hospital. They like your socks and that is fine. Accept the compliment and get the hell out.
- Do not let the Safety Escort take you home. Stay strong. If you cave, you are weak. Don't be a cowardice woman. He is a man. He thinks you are inferior. He doesn't really want to help you, he just wants to prove his power in society. Ballz it up and keep running. You've got this.
- Anticipate how long you will be gone. Use the restroom before you leave. No matter how harmless and potty desperate you look, the man mopping down Whole Foods will not let you in.
- If you are sketched out by someone nearby, do not fear. Whip out your phone and have a nice faux conversation with your law enforcement father about how you have a rape whistle, pepper spray and a handgun on you at all times. Remind him that you have people expecting you in the next five minutes and they will come looking for you if you are not back very soon.
- To ensure that no one is following behind you, spin. That's right. I said spin. Intense jog aside, kick up your right heel and perform a swift swivel to check out any potential company lurking behind. This sweet move proves to be both effective and entertaining. You will look like a skilled dancer. People will love you.