As I walked out of the gym at one in the morning on a Friday night, after running in
place on a machine for a few miles, which is something I do sometimes, I saw a carton of
milk launch from the window of a speeding sport utility vehicle, miss the stumbling
drunken teenagers it was aimed at, and explode on the sidewalk behind them.
They looked confused and drunk and not as afraid as they should have been.
Then, down the block, a man was standing in the middle of the street with an overturned
bicycle, which he repeatedly picked up and smashed on the ground, over and over and
over again, screaming "This tire is a piece of shit! This tire is a piece of shit!" I suppose
he was screaming it to me, since there was no one else around. But I just kept walking.
When I got home the palm trees were silhouetted against the clouds.
My first thought: "Who does that?"
My second thought: "Man, life is weird."