Reply to thread

Message: [QUOTE="Waffles, post: 203889, member: 703"] [CENTER][ATTACH type="full" alt="avellaneda-plaza-y-parroquia-de-noche.jpg"]69318[/ATTACH] [SIZE=1][B]We were so hopelessly lost...[/B][/SIZE][/CENTER] We were background characters in each other's stories. Friends of friends who happened to show up at the same parties and to exist within the same four walls, rarely --if ever-- interacting, and limiting themselves to sitting on opposite sides of a crowded couch or around a fast-disappearing pizza paid for by pooling the money that was supposed to afford our bus rides home. We were just two more faces in the dark. And maybe because of this "cold familiarity", I actually had to do a double-take when I ended up walking down some side streets with this same person by my side, both looking extremely puzzled (and more than a little uncomfortable) as we looked around the unfamiliar landscape bathed on the kind of sickly orange glow that could only exist on a "pre-green" city at 3 AM on a weekend, with streetlights projecting unnatural light all-around us and making us feel like prehistoric mosquitoes frozen in ambar, doomed to watch the world evolve around us whilst being trapped in a single second. We were so utterly lost trying to find the next party that the street signs may as well have been written in an entirely different language, being so unfamiliar to us as to cause real panic. And worst of all, neither of us had credit on our cellphones -- we had used it all up by doing dumb teenager stuff like texting awful "joke" services and trying to get connected to eBuddy to chat on MSN Messenger with screens so small as to turn it all into an exercise of futility paid for by lab rats that didn't even realize they were being punished. It was during that increasingly panicked time that I realized that I didn't even know this person's voice -- the most we had ever interacted up to that point was when we were both watching a Dragon Ball DVD on someone's house (our extremely nerdy "pre-party" plan) and we grunted along as we passed popcorn, beer and candy around. When she finally spoke, I was amazed by how... lyrical it sounded, like the star of a Shakespearean play being ready to deliver her award-winning performance. She basically looked around, gauged something just behind me and then looked at her own feet as if suddenly shy whilst our shadows grew larger by the minute, shooting out in all directions as the flickering street lights and the moon shifted positions all-around us, both shielded and highlighted by the lazy stream of night clouds being towed around by the kind of winter breeze only found in the Southern Hemisphere, in a place sitting right in-between a mountain and an ocean. [CENTER][ATTACH type="full" alt="dT2bxfg.jpg"]69320[/ATTACH] [SIZE=1][B]Bootleg disc is bootleg.[/B][/SIZE][/CENTER] When she finally spoke, it came out as a resigned whisper: "So... do you even know who's party this was?". And, truth be told, I didn't. In classic 15-year-old fashion, I had just followed what looked fun and didn't think about anything else as the group that was supposed to take us both there decided to take a detour and ended up somewhere else entirely. The fact that my 17-year-old unlikely companion was just as lost as me was of little consolation at the time, but we eventually found our way back to the main street after two hours of trying to ask for directions in the few stores that were still running at such vampiresque hours. I wasn't really expecting to still be attached to this person as I made my way back home, hoping that she'd say something to the effect of "this is my street" or "I'll take a right here". I wasn't ungrateful for the company (far from it, actually! Her being there was probably the only reason I didn't break down as soon as the reality of my own stupidity became evident, and her cheerful demeanor seemed to guide me through the fog of nightly mistakes like a reverse mermaid, steering me away from trouble by taking charge and remaining two steps ahead at all times) but it was very hard to make small talk with someone I had been pointingly ignoring (and being ignored by) for two years at that point. Still, we continued on like fictional heroes heading home after a long battle, joined in their shared pain and misery, our connection at the time deeper than any outside party could ever understand. When we finally parted ways I found myself standing at the other end of my own street. [CENTER][ATTACH type="full" alt="img_1_1747271793477.jpg"]69321[/ATTACH] [SIZE=1][B]That was the coolest thing I ever saw.[/B][/SIZE][/CENTER] I remember that feeling quite awkward, and the universe seemed to delight on highlighting that moment by making us perform the classic "dance": I went for a fist bump, she went for a hug. I recalibrated and proceeded to engage in a hug myself, but she had changed tactics and was fist-bumping me instead. We ended up shaking hands like a couple of tools, the epitome of teenage un-coolness. Still, I had hoped that that would be the end of it. It was cool knowing that we lived so close to each other, but that was a largely anecdotal fact, the kind that's filed under the same category as "Works at McDonald's" or "Her favorite color is burgundy". But it wasn't the end of it, was it? Of course not. Two days later I found myself walking to school at the predawn hours, trying to convince myself that the slapping winter breeze would help me settle my intoxicated stomach, which was still feeling the after-effects of downing warm beer, cold pizza and a large of dose of panic from the previous weekend. Like most things at that age the idea of going to school that early seemed like a genius, almost chess-like movement at first... until I realized that I was gonna look like a total loser by being the first person in school that morning. I remember being quite resigned to my fate at that point, probably because my stomach was still very upset and also because I knew that my parents weren't going to take kindly to me returning for anything short of a medical emergency. It was just pain all-around... until I heard someone calling me from the road and I turned around just in time to see my nightly companion gliding along as her sputtering moped struggled down an entirely flat, freshly-paved street that any self-respecting vehicle should have been able to conquer with ease. And I loved the juxtaposition between her confident grin, her waving hair, and the fact that she was driving like a defensive grandma on her first day on the road. [CENTER][ATTACH type="full" alt="pizza-lo-hot-sucursal.jpg"]69322[/ATTACH] [SIZE=1][B]We actually thought we could scam a shop...[/B][/SIZE][/CENTER] We didn't actually speak during that short walk/ride to school and we went our separated ways as soon as she chained her piece of junk vehicle and headed for the upper classrooms (because she was a Junior whilst I was a Sophomore), but it was cool just having someone in there and saving my ass from being permanently labeled as "that one stupid nerd who showed up before opening time". And for the next year or so (up until her graduation, really) I would make an effort to show up a bit earlier than usual just to hang out, our relationship thawing with each passing nod or increasingly less awkward greeting we shared, culminating with us developing a sort of "signal system" in which one us would claim a spot on the southern stairwell and just silently pat the concrete slab next to him (or her) until the other sat down, then we caught up about the most meaningless topics imaginable and shared a couple of inside jokes before the first bell put an end to it and sent us our separated ways. Our mornings became far less boring because of those few minutes we could share (specially because our philosophy teacher took notice of it and began roasting us for it), but it was our nights that truly cemented this new bond. No longer strangers who merely breathed the same air or drank from the same mysterious bottles (or smoked whatever was put in front of them), we often found ourselves orbiting each other even at times when the parties grew so loud and so crowded that the only way I could still see her among the many bodies that moved erratically in there was because her silhouette was unmistakable: Amazonian tall and with hair so long as to cause a border dispute with her back, it was hard to lose her even as the cheap lights and throbbing music that became the staple of mid-aughts house parties tried to break us apart. But we still didn't talk much. Mostly laughed a little more and talked louder to be heard over some of the worst songs I had ever heard. And that was fine, ours wasn't a friendship built on words, but cemented on actions. When a sort of community center near our homes decided to become an all-night bar & grill, we were all over it. The people running it had decided to buy a ton of games (including table football and air hockey) and, more importantly, arcade cabinets. This was the kind of place that judged people's ages by the weight of their wallets rather than by the height of their bodies, and so we could get pissed drunk while playing Metal Slug and other classics while underage, sort of mastering the ancient art of balancing a greasy, low-quality burger and the controller of one of the many cabinets that were sitting in a corner by the door while also drinking a beer that was perched on top of the machines, catching annoyed glances by the employees, who seemed to have realized a little too late that they had sold burgers and beer to a bunch of teens whose entire idea of having fun was spilling both all over the place while pretending that they were, in fact, not so drunk as to break down crying because their character died (which actually happened to a buddy of mine... and innocent you if you think that we ever let him live that down!). There were also some pool tables in there, but the staff had made it absolutely clear that we weren't allowed anywhere near those if we had drank beforehand. [CENTER][ATTACH type="full" alt="s-l120x0.jpg"]69323[/ATTACH] [SIZE=1][B]No drunks allowed...[/B][/SIZE][/CENTER] One particularly hilarious incident (since known as "zero birds with two stones") happened right after an all-you-can-eat buffet opened right in front of the aforementioned community center and we decided to game the system by descending upon it like Huns on a warpath, taking advantage of the promotion that let you stuff your face for $10 a piece. The plan was to show up with so many people that we could all eat our fill and then head for the pool tables and the arcade with a lot of change still in our pockets, making the night ours by sheer willpower and gluttony. God bless our simple minds. Shockingly for us, this place wasn't actually built on the principle of "Oh, please bankrupt me, you Half-Locust Gods from forgotten lore" and they actually planned for people like us, making it so they always had waitresses hovering around the tables and swooping down like birds as soon as one plate was delivered, asking if we would like something more when had barely started chewing on the previous offerings, the caveat being that you couldn't ask for a second plate if yours wasn't empty... and they were relentless! I think I ate like two plates max before they kicked us out, our $10 soon exhausted on declined servings. And because we had actually spent so much money, the idea of playing more than a few rounds on the cheapest games available (mostly ping-pong) was met with such dread that we didn't even bother crossing the street. We all packed up and went home with nothing. I saw my new friend a couple more times after that, but finals and her upcoming graduation meant that she wasn't nearly as available as she once was. She stopped showing up entirely whenever we managed to piece together some last-minute plans and her parked, beaten moped became the sole reminder that she was still out there. By the time Summer rolled around, she was nowhere to be seen. Her new life had begun in earnest and these stupid adventures were all behind her now. It's almost funny how she went from someone I had come to see as utterly replaceable to a person I couldn't do without in a matter of weeks, all because I actually went through the effort of wanting to know her better. But that's just life, isn't it? Showing you the goods right before they spoil, putting all the rewards just beyond your reach as you agonize over a way to make it all last just a little longer, refusing to let the credits roll on a story that had just started playing. [CENTER][ATTACH type="full" alt="img_1_1747272296303.jpg"]69324[/ATTACH] [SIZE=1][B]It's almost hilarious how this became our next wild ride.[/B][/SIZE][/CENTER] But no matter how neatly or beautifully we think we craft our stories, the universe is the true artist among us. Only it knows how everything should play out, when the final curtain should drop... or if it should drop at all. Seventeen years after our first moonlit misadventure I found myself doing some last-minute shopping in the impossibly bright halls of a minimart, basket firmly in hand and eyes scanning the list I was given with the sort of tired resignation belonging to someone who knows that he's doing the right thing, but would honestly rather live with the consequences of avoiding that responsibility entirely. I remember scanning the shelves like a schmuck in search of the exact brand of baby mix and diapers I was asked for, cursing myself because I had previously thrown some frozen Ravioli in there and now I wasn't sure if the napkins I had gotten earlier weren't all soaked... it was the kind of stupid, meaningless thing that feels monumental and catastrophic in the face of utter tiredness. And maybe because I was already pivoting towards not caring, getting whatever I saw first and dealing with the consequences later (and there would be consequences), I decided to stop looking for the damn items and instead gazed around, being mesmerized by the person who was hovering near the frozen goods aisle, someone actually taller than the shelves which surrounded her and with so much hair that her bangs cascaded down her back and nearly reached her jeans over the inflated vest she was wearing. Could it really be her? No, that would be stupid. But then this person maneuvered toward me in her way to get some discount paper towels from the nearby rack (the same ones I was getting, actually) and I did the two most cliche things possible: First: I offered the pack I had just grabbed, even though there was absolutely no need for that because the shelf was full of them, literally wall-to-wall flooded with the damn things. Second: I broached the subject in the most awkward way possible. I didn't ask her anything like "Hey, I'm *My name*. Remember me?" or "*Her Name* I can't believe it's you!"... no, instead I went for the lemming approach: "Excuse me, were we classmates in *Name of School*?", which made for a very long, drawn-out back-and-forth as she couldn't place me at all and I had trouble convincing her that we actually knew each other because we went on different classes and only hung out for a very brief moment during which I wasn't wearing glasses nor had any facial hair. She hadn't changed a bit, but I sure did. We went at it for a surprisingly long time, only stopping when a flicker of recognition registered in her mind... then we both relaxed and we played extreme catch-up, "speedrunning" our way through nearly two decades of personal developments whilst cranking out the gossip like old times, actually hugging it out as our parting gesture that night. Time may have changed us both in a lot of ways, but it at least afforded us the necessary growth to avoid making fools of ourselves on the greeting/farewell area. There's something truly beautiful about the fact that our first encounter took place in unknown streets bathed in artificial light whilst looking for the next high to fuel our wild teenage ride while the one that re-ignited this long-dormant friendship happened to be its exact opposite: an almost oppressing normalcy happening in the most mundane of locales as we moved through life with no bigger desire than to be done with it by unloading our edible "loot" into a conveyor belt to nothing, small-talking the equally exhausted cashier as we swiped a magnetized, plastic rectangle of power into a machine designed to charge us invisibly, removing even more interaction from our already socially-starved worlds. I have thrown dozens of bottles into the sea of memories these last couple of years, so it's only fitting that the only one to reach its destination was the one I didn't cast. [/QUOTE]

Verification

Online statistics

Members online: 196

Guests online: 257

Total visitors: 453

Totals may include hidden visitors.

Forum statistics

Threads: 7,940

Messages: 199,073

Members: 595,269

Latest member: ledropopes

Reply to thread

Online statistics

Forum statistics

Support us