Young Freedom
Tonight I played pool with Dmo at The Mallard. No english, no funny stuff, just straight shooting. I’m trying to resharpen my game. It feels like I’m starting from the beginning.
I almost forgot how much I enjoy novelty ball sports. We played as many games as we could, on the back table in the separate room, until the bartender kicked us off because people were waiting. I’ve played a lot of games on that table, for a long time! I was feeling sentimental on an empty stomach, drank a Bombay By Boat and let myself reminisce. About the middle 90’s shooting stick at The Duck with Matt, my best friend, always on Thursday nights when the tall, cute bartender named Wanda worked. Wanda and Matt had a dialog: they talked about me. Matt tried to set me up with her, and she flirted with me, through Matt, and I blushed. It was a strange dynamic that repeated over and over until one day I ran into her in the shoe aisle at Mervyn’s and it was so bright compared to the bar as I told her I was looking for non-leather shoes and I could tell right then she thought I was a big dork.
I remember The Duck in the back room playing pool for long johns when Elisabeth said, “It must be fun to play games with your body.” Games? I suppose eating a cream filled chocolate long john is actually quite a trick, I realize that now.
Well I schooled Dmo, sort of, and drank a Boont, then became vaguely belligerent. I wasn’t really and truly belligerent, but the beers were meeting me half way and I wanted to be there. I got happy enough that I started making shots with the bridge. I know that doesn’t make much sense, but if you knew me it might.
When we got kicked off the table we played Mars Attacks. Mars Attacks! I love pinball! Or I used to love pinball, forgot about it, and now realize I miss it. The field was set fast with a steep incline, and the tilt sensor was tricky; we played ten games and I think I only finished two balls with my bonus intact. But oh to be young and playing pinball, and happy, and yet sad because the tilt sensor is way too sensitive and you can’t stop tilting. Tilting is a natural part of the game, I’m trained to interact with the ball on every ricochet, shaping trajectories, nudging fate…
Doran did not want to get a donut afterwards. Come on! You just rode Pig Farm, and now you’re telling me you can’t handle a ‘nut?
He dropped me off back at work and I got on my bike. I was determined to sabotage myself with donuts. I had that young, free feeling, when the entire world seems open and whimsical and fun, and you can do anything you like, you’re high on freedom. The world hasn’t felt like that for a long time and I needed to grab hold of it.
I made it to Colonial Donuts at 10pm as dudes were playing speed chess. I watched as a tray of fresh frosted cake donuts were presented. I’ll take one of those fresh white sprinkles and a lemon jelly please. Oh, and a chocolate milk.
The lemon jelly was fluffy and tart. It reminded me of my dad, the first person I ever remember to order one. It seemed insane at the time. The newly minted cake had blue and yellow sprinkles; it was still warm and fragile. The frosting crunched like delicate crystals.