Living Without Lighting
2021-05-02 09:45:00 (UTC)

Saturday Night Fiasco

Call it cynical, call it mythical, but I believe there are some days that go so beyond the boundaries of cosmic chance, that they're best spent at home in an environment that's immediately controllable. In other words, bad days tangibly exist. Me and my friend Jay had such luck tonight, after I made it a mission to go out and have a good time for the first time in months. However, our misfortune wasn't necessarily caused by chance itself, but rather an unwise miscalculation of the amount of people we expected to see turn out on a Saturday night. Especially during these post-covid reopenings.

It all began with the trampoline park. My stepbrother had gotten me a pass for Christmas, and I thought it'd be a fun and productive idea to go out and use it. Off Jay and I went for twenty miles to get to the trampoline park, and lo and behold, it was swarmed. I didn't want to risk goomba-stomping a child on accident, and the moment I had told a clerk I had a gift pass she let out a rude snicker. Dejected, Jay and I attempted to try a nearby Dave and Buster's only to realize there was a line that spanned fifty feet outside the door. At this point, we sat in the parking lot, musing over what our next course of action could be. Until it hit us, we're both twenty-one, why not hit up the hookah lounge? We got back on the freeway and drove another thirty minutes to our city, and after grabbing some food we returned to my place so I could change into some proper clothes.

From there, we rode into town again, only for our disappointment to continue. The first lounge we visited had closed early, while the second, it feels mind-numbing just remembering it. Outside, full grown adults were sitting on top of their cars and a storage unit, like how high schoolers congregate after a home-winning football game. A faint smell of pot wafted through the air and ten feet away from the door Jay and I could already hear the overblown bass of Soulja Boy being played. The music blasted out of the double doors as we opened them, and it was ear-shattering, overwhelming the smell of hookah itself. There were no seats available, and after returning to my car we decided to call it quits and I drove him home. Even still, Jay insisted that he had a good time. That patient soul, I'm grateful to have a friend like him.

While we were able to learn from our mistakes, it felt frustrating returning back to home, slinking through the darkened, vacant foyer and back into my dungeon. After having a good time with Jay I'm always reminded of how miserable my house, or what I refer to as "The Manor" really is. Hidden by a large tree, the front of the two-story residence is adorned with peeling paint, as well as an encompassing shadow that at no point during the day is illuminated by the sun. It's like something straight out of a Blackwood novel, a habitation which reflects the desolate energies of its dwellers on the surface, creating a foreboding image that warns any passerby who's looking to keep their sanity. I think from now on I'll be planning our outings for the week nights, as there's simply too many people out and about otherwise. Until next time...