I’m a big fan of walkable communities and, years ago, heard a related piece on the radio. They mentioned that one of the things lost in automobile culture is the “random swerve” (although some drivers apparently didn’t get the memo). On foot, you notice details that you simply can’t in a car whether it be because of speed or road noise or safety. Those details and the ease with which you can change direction, take a few steps down a side street and discover something new are a huge advantage — they give neighborhoods life.
R__ town isn’t walkable per se, but I don’t drive in winter weather, and when it started snowing last night before I’d had a chance to get my Friday night on, I suited up to brave the two mile walk to the nearest dive bar. It was cold, a little wet, but I’ve always enjoyed long walks at night. Add the magic of fresh snow, and by eleven o’clock I was trudging my way towards whiskey.
I only got about four blocks up the street before I came across the sounds of a house party. A small group stood outside in a semi-enclosed patio, bundled up and laughing, the glow of electric light and good friends bouncing off the snow and spilling out to the sidewalk as I passed. I wished a jealous wish and kept moving. Suddenly, I heard, “Hey, look at that guy walking!” Like I said, not many people walk here, especially not at night, and I figured they were curious how many DUIs a person has to have before they’re forced to march down D__ Road. I smiled to myself without breaking stride.
“Hey!”
“What?!” I yelled, feigning incredulity. How dare you interrupt my lonesome walk in search of social interaction with your social interaction. I backtracked a few steps and one of the party-goers asked if I wanted a smoke. I was already halfway into the yard when I asked what kind he was smoking.
It was a great group of mid-twenty somethings, ten maybe fifteen people in all, and we drank and talked shit until about three in the morning. A few of the guys are headed to New Zealand, and this was their going away party. They’d already had at least one, but the parties were turning out to be so much fun, there was talk that perhaps another could be squeezed in before their flight.
A couple of the guys, very drunk, bemoaned the fact that they’d had to move back in with their parents, and this was putting a huge damper on their sex lives. I’m not sure how much of this was purely economic and how much was the transition between school and the workforce. Guy 1 said he needed a friend with an apartment, somewhere to host after the party leaves the bar. “Done,” I said and gave him my card. I’m not sure which of us was more surprised by our incredible luck. I say that like I’m not aware how much trouble I’m probably in for if it actually works out.
R__ town is friendly, but not so friendly that a guy walking alone down the street would get pulled in on just any night. I credit the magic of snow and the wild possibilities of the random swerve.
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- Norman