A bit tight on our scheduled RTD ride to the airport, I’m
running willfully jogging in my flip-flops to join my family and a pile of luggage I’ve dropped just minutes ago at the bus stop. The sun is high and showing its best for a June in Boulder. Haven’t reached the half of my mile long run yet I’m starting to consider to hitchhike before a complete meltdown of my very self. Hitchhiking in a residential area might be a little funky idea my brain countersuggests to itself. At that point a sound of a car approaching from behind makes my left hand do the hitchhike move unconsciously, regardless of my brain’s struggle with all those improbability issues. Suddenly two weird wooden guns point out of the car window at me and shoot immediately some colorful projectiles. One hits my arm, the other bites my leg. Teenagers in the car are half excited half surprised they’ve hit me. Alright I’m shot, now give me a ride to the RTD dudes!, I hear myself to shout back still kind of unconsciously. The car goes to a full stop. Sure, why not, says the driver, and starts moving some funny stuff including knives and whoknowswhat to the other half of the back seat. I’ve been provided a decent ride, we’ve wished each other a pleasant day. Sitting now in a landing airplane some two thousand miles away, the whole thing keeps returning to my head. WTF?