There are very few things I like more than listening to the sound of water, gazing at the night sky, and being in good company. In the rare instances when they come together, I envision the metaphorical stars aligning in my literal night sky. The place is Surf City. A bar and restaurant on the coast of Jersey City. With a huge outdoor space of chairs and beach umbrellas and firepits and sand, things felt right. What truly touched my heart was that they had their own parking lot. Gone are the days where hours (maybe not hours) were spent circling the town looking for parking.
The night flew by. Being a weekend night, the parking lot was packed when we arrived, consequently, the car was parked quite a distance from the entrance. That 5 minute walk in the near-empty, questionably-lighted parking lot felt like an eternity and a week. Scenes from horror films flashed in my mind. The wind in the trees was a young girl’s scream for help. The rustle was the footsteps of a stalker moments away from landing his shank through my right lung, silencing my screams. Though it was in the 70s that night, I was sweating. Sweating from fear of being stabbed. Sweating from fear of being decapitated. Sweating from fear of being thrown into the water.
I learned something that night: sweating from fear is an effective way of losing weight.
[image from here)