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2.19.99 Friday Night Friday night. I could be staring at a beer, or a beautiful girl, but instead I gaze at the distant gap that separates this parking lot from the next. The cold February air cuts through my sweat laden shirt as I begin my approach. I shake off the chill and focus my attention. My speed won't be enough, so I lay down another push. The gap is closing in fast. Fast enough? It'll have to do. I snap my tail down. Airborne, but not fast enough. I kick my board away and prepare for the worst. My feet hit first, but the speed drives my body to the ground. I get up and lick my bleeding hand. I look around to see an old woman shake her head at me then shuffle off to do her shopping. I limp back up to the other parking lot, and sit down. Blood from my knee shows though my pants. The wind picks up. I'm freezing. I think about all my friends. Probably partying it up somewhere. Why am I here? I force myself up. I lick my hand once more. Salty. Damn blood. I hate blood I stare at the gap, shake off the fear, then push off for another approach. Four solid pushes. It should be enough. Just commit. I slam on the tail. The gap flies by beneath my feet. My feet. Where's my board? SHIT! The ground rushes to meet me. I struggle to get my balance. One foot finds the board. One does not. I'm flipped over. I hit my side. I pull my arms out of the way. The ground tears at my clothes. Tears at my soul. The tearing stops. I drag myself over to my board and sit myself up. Stupid board. Where were you when I needed you? Some night. Why am I here? My mind stops spinning. I lick the blood from my hand, pick up my board and head back up for another go. |