Six fellows had been enjoying
mugs of beer on a Saturday night. Money had been collected, a keg of inexpensive
beer had been purchased and the contents were being imbibed. A mild commotion made
itself known nearby and the good natured fellows went to correct the disruption.
They were very capable, these ones. Well, five of them at least. The sixth,
being of slight build, was charged with transporting the keg to the next locale
instead of intermingling with a potential scuffle. The group disbanded and the
sole waif refreshed his mug before taking on his transport mission.
He hefted the keg, still
three quarters full of precious gold carbonated liquid, and moved it out the
front door to the tiny porch. Really tiny, the porch was no more than a three-foot
by three-foot square of raised concrete intended as a point of demarcation from
the apartment complex’s concrete walkway. He grabbed his skateboard, lifted the
keg onto the skate and was on his way.
The rendezvous locale was three
blocks away and he would travel without his muscled escort. The neighborhood
was not one of violence, but at this hour on a Saturday night in a quadrant of
highly populated dilapidated apartments occupied by students in the city of Isla
Vista, immediately adjacent to the university campus of Santa Barbara, there
may be opportunists of unsavory intent. With that thought lightly weighing on
his mind he quickly put his concerns to rest. ‘It’s just three blocks. What’s that, five minutes? Here I go.’
He felt like a king in charge
of this whole keg while on a skateboard. Covetous looks were showered upon him
from student-aged pedestrians. He pompously pretended to be oblivious, but
enjoyed the attention.
One might think that a keg of
beer, a full-sized keg, not one of those diminutive pony kegs that could be
easily lifted as if conducting a set of arm curls, this full barrel, one’s
first impression, might be that an awkward ride was to commence. Not so. He
quickly discovered a keg on the skateboard was an amazingly effective stabilizer!
The added weight allowed the skate to hug the ground without so much as a jolt when
rolling over each sidewalk crack, twigs or small stones. Debris that might otherwise
present a possible err was to be overcome without hesitation. Turning was also vastly
enhanced. The keg easily overhung each side of the skateboard such that effecting
a left or right turn was easily performed by a mere leaning on one side of the
keg or the other. Smooth sailing, in sea-faring parlance.
First block down, he’d be
pulling off cups of beer in no time. So elated at the ease with which this
perceived difficult task had turned that he noticed not a wit that the next
block was rather dark. And when I narrate that it was dark, the street lights were
mostly inoperable or had been actively disabled. Ominous one might say.
The corner turned, no cars,
pedestrians or other skateboards. It was entirely clear, nothing but the
pleasant sounds of his skateboard tooling elegantly down the street with a
prize possession in his entire care, custody and control. Except, of course, for
the house on the right with a fire pit in the front yard and a balcony loaded
with eight rabble-rousers. The sound of the skateboard regrettably won their
attention and the rowdies got eerily quiet while heavy metal music continued to
wail from the stereo system. Waif looked toward the house, all rowdies were
looking at him. No words spoken, eyes locked, mental motion began to spin. The rabble
rousers huddled hastily and hushed tones were eagerly exchanged. Waif was a
silly fellow, but not a dumb one. He recognized that this might be a good time
to expedite his arrival time.
The street was smooth as if
recently paved. This allowed him to confidently increase his rate of speed
without a significant corresponding chance of a wipe out. While the rowdies expended
precious moments deciding on their course of action, he did not need confirmation,
he knew the decision, only not how long by which the result would be accepted
widely enough to set their plan in force.
The home was deeply set back
from the street so the rowdies, already appreciating inebriating effects to
their motor skills, wasted additional time fighting their way downstairs and
picking out their bicycles from the haphazard scrum of two-wheeled vehicles on
the front lawn. Isla Vista is a land of self-propulsion devices necessitated by
the expansive university campus. Bicycles were possessed by most as the choice
vehicle of self-propulsion. Waif, as we see here, however, chose a skateboard.
He was a block away from the destination where he hoped reinforcements would be
present, but this hope would be rendered futile if he did not first get there.
He was traveling well, if at
a reckless pace by now, when he heard the cluster of rabble rousers hit the
streets. His lead was 100 feet and they would close quickly. Less than half a
block away he saw the driveway, his goal was within sight. He was skating at
full speed as the luxury of safety no longer intersected with his circumstances.
A pothole would easily spill him and the barrel of beer harshly across the
asphalt. That risk he accepted knowing this to be a game of all or nothing. They
were too fast, he could hear their breathing! The cat-calling started, “Hey, we
just want a refill, fill up our cups and we’ll leave you alone.”
The muscled reinforcements,
oblivious to the brewing confrontation, in a beautiful gift of timing, walked
out from the driveway awaiting the arrival of the keg. It was the five from the
onset. They’d completed their brief task, traveled to this locale and were ready
to reengage the keg.
The skateboard pulled into
the driveway as the rowdies rode by with parting wicked remarks. The reinforcements
laughed immediately realizing that waif had been in a race for his proverbial
life and emerged unscathed by the thinnest of margins. A brief breath catcher,
and a refill. Those next few sips were very sweet, much sweeter and tastier
than if there had been no chase.
[Inspired by a true life event circa 1990 up to and including the
rabble-rousers on the balcony, except for the chase.]
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