A Moment of Magnificence

I was a little out of touch with reality as I sat in traffic tonight. I was mostly focused on the burning sensation coming from my abs and legs (thank you half marathon training), and relishing in the onset of a wine buzz compliments of the grocery store tasting kiosk. I made the decision to indulge in a few samples alongside a 90-year-old woman with a near 90-degree posture, and a hispanic woman who looked like she'd had as tough of a week as myself. The three of us gave an air toast with our plastic sample cups, and I departed from my local Safeway with two bottles of expensive wine I otherwise wouldn't have purchased.

Windows cracked and red wine now occupying my passenger seat, the traffic eased a bit, and I arrived at the traffic light nearest my house. And there was something about this particular moment that felt really good. Almost like a crescendo of sorts -- the sun was setting, signifying the end of a week that did a number on me. And I was sore. But it felt good, like I took on the world. Like I endured it, and emerged victorious. Like... oh my god... is that Toto on the radio? My arm was not my own, and in a matter of seconds, the dial cranked further to the right until I was belting out the words with about as much gusto as you might expect from an SNL skit.

It wasn't until I hit my high, "I've got some brains down in AfffRICA!! (I've got some brains.) Gonna take some time to do the things I never haaaaa aaaa aaaa aaaa aaadddd! Wooo ooooooo" that I noticed a group of African American foot commuters staring at me with what can only be described as terror and bewilderment that I realized how lost I had gotten into my moment. The light flickered to green, and I sped off into the sunset with my single headlight, amused by the permanent damage I'd just caused to those innocent gentleman and anxious to see where the weekend might take me.

As the photo technician at CVS pharmacy might say, it's the little things in life. Yes, yes it is.