I must have lost my touch

I realized recently that I lost one of my most important skill sets: effectively swimming through hoards of apparently mindless tourists. Most people have little need for such a skill set. They are lucky.

My least favorite place to be in all the world is front street, in Avalon, around noon, in August (It's a little weird that I'm writing this as if it is for people who don't know what I'm talking about, when I know exactly who is going to read it, but whatever). Families of six and seven dig trenches into the beach, and there are just so many people going in every direction without any sense of destination.

As summer winds up, I do my best to avoid this situation. Leisurely walks downtown cease, I find myself taking side streets to avoid the congested areas, and most importantly, I just stay inside. A few years ago, when I eventually found myself faced with the crowded crescent avenue, I would dive in, expertly dart and dodge around strollers, wandering children, and stalled girls in tube tops and obscenely large sunglasses staring into store fronts with blank stares on their faces. I would bump shoulders just hard enough to not loose my place on the sidewalk, and most importantly, keep up a good pace and maintain my status as a moving target.

In contrast, it is July of a slow summer, and if I find myself rusty, moving slowly through the river of visitors. I have this acute fear that I'm going to wake up one morning (or return from Rollercon in Vegas) and realize it is August, it is busy, oh god there are so many people, and my mind is just going to melt. Everything will cease to matter, my priorities will fade away, and I will be an utter failure at transporting myself anywhere.

Hello Summer