miscelleny 2
Originally written 03/22/2002
The last time I went skateboarding, before the glorious spring sunshine turned back to winter’s grey clouds and rain, I noticed this old lady walk into Bristo square as I noseslid one of the ledges. She looked like a normal old woman; well dressed, hair not disheveled, and not smelling of urine, but she still seemed detached, vacant. As she passed me, I noticed a can in her coat pocket. It was one of the big cans, not the shorter ones that contain Coke or Tango, but thr tall ones that usually hold beer or malt liquour. I remember walking down the beer aisle in the Tesco the other day and wondering how I’d make up my mind if I actually drank. Would I buy the pilsner? Or maybe the stout? But maybe the lager’s nice? It’s a complication I can do without. The woman sat down in a corner, removed the can from her pocket and slowly started to consume the beverages contents. She sat there for at least an hour, blending into the scenery, as insignificant as any other ungrindable static object amongst the wizzing melee of skaters. I skated. She drank. Totally alone. Surrounded by youth moving past her as though to represent the astonishing passing of her own years. I skated alone, but not really so. I never really talk to anybody, but there’s still that unspoken sense of acceptence-that common bond that is shared for the love of 7 layers of plywood and four urethane wheels. Earlier that day there was a little stair session. Just 4 stairs, but the takeoff was really sketch. All the little kids lined up to watch the show, and as I waited my turn I realized that, for the first time in a long time, I had that same feeling that I did furtively skating the stairs near the Dickenson College dorms, or behind the Sprint complex in Carlisle. At what point does one completely loose touch with life? When does it become completely impossible to once again taste those blissful morsels of youth? Was that why the woman had come to the square? The woman sat there, eyes glazed and unmoving as I left the square and headed back to my flat, back to assignments, exams, career plans, and taxes, back to adulthood, back to the clock slowly ticking towards irrelevence.