Beyond the horizon, where the land ceases to exist.
I am going to a bar in the suburbs tonight. Willingly. For the evening. No rushing back to the city, just drinking in a suburban bar. It's a bar with the same name as a bar I hung out at when I would visit home during my college years -- that bar went from being an artsy-fartsy hangout to becoming the destination for every douchebag in a twenty mile radius -- but I assure you it is not the same bar. Same owners, I think, but a new location. The new space is cavernous and wrong and built to pack in as many sweaty desperate bodies as it can possibly hold. I am looking forward to seeing generations of alumni from my high school clumsily flirt, and I am especially looking forward to the moment a 40-something hits on a 21-year old without realizing they are hitting on a 21-year because, sometimes, in the suburbs 20 is actually the new 40.
This should be interesting.
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