Grand Prix weekend, the weekend students use to blow off steam before finals week by throwing huge parties, dressing up in full costume and walking to the bar at sunrise, is nearly over. Abandoned cups of beer line the sidewalk, random litter blows down the street. An inflatable swimming pool full of lawnchairs is abandoned. A dog sniffs at a used condom.
On my walk I count no less than six graying men I assume to be homeless crouching to pick up beer cans from the sidewalk, trashbags overflowing with cans tied to bicycle handlebars, while the students across the street sit on their front porches in sunglasses and pajamas and watch in silence. I walk home.
Be thankful you didn’t have to sell baked goods to these idiots. :/ Twenty of them came into my shop. Used the bathroom without buying anything, brought drinks from other coffee shops and poured sugar and milk into them from our condiment bar. So much rudeness. It was kind of horrific. I definitely never want to be left by myself again to deal with it. I’ve never seen lines that long for bars in my life…it was wrapped around the block.
A-h-h-h to be young again!!
Aren’t you glad you don’t have to do that anymore?
Memories of Little 5 down in Bloomington…
Memories, like the corners of my mind. Hazy alcohol clouded memories, of the drinks they served.
Saturday morning I had 4 different inebriated frat-boy types purposely jump in front of my car, and then laugh hysterically with their equally-inebriated buddies as I frantically slammed on my brakes. I’m talking 4 separate incidents. By the last time I thought about hitting him, but then again, I like not being in prison.