Inland, Dreaming of Waves

Peeling off

Tonight I did something I haven't done for a long time--ride the bus from Boulder to Broomfield late at night. I'd forgotten how lonely the Broomfield park and ride can be at night. It sits at the top of a hill, and during the day it's windswept and has a commanding view of the entire Front Range. But at night, with no one there except me and a light in the shelter, I felt so separate from the world, as if I'd somehow found my way to a parallel dimension.

Usually I find public transportation invigorating, when there are lots of people coming and going and crowding into the seat and hanging from the straps. But out in the suburbs, it's depressing. And I felt even more depressed when I got to my neighborhood and was reminded how dull suburbia can be. At least where I lived in Kansas City, there were big lawns and 100-foot trees. I'm not really a fan of huge lots--I prefer rowhouses, to be honest--but something about my neighborhood in the dark made it seem so crowded and lifeless. It doesn't have much character.

I talked to my neighbor for a while before going in the house. I told him Todd wanted to buy a motorcycle, and he said he had a motorcycle that Todd might like, a Kawasaki Ninja 250, but he needed to fix it.

posted by Price of Silence @ 10:07 PM