Wednesday
Running into folks from home in another city is not unlike bumping into an old boyfriend unexpectedly. Do you agree to coffee again, for old time’s sake? Maybe. Do you really want to go? Likely not. There’s a sudden need to prove yourself, what you’ve been up to, what you’re doing. At the same time, you are exchanging knowing glances, recounting where you last saw them, what they were doing, wearing. Surrounded by unrecognizable faces, the familiarity with our hometown unites us. We are the outcasts, and yet, this week, we visitors outnumber the locals. We cram into the left corner of a bike shop, pile around a projector screen and two shirtless riders showcasing Texan themed tattoos as they ride single speeds on rollers for bragging rights.
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