There we were. All of us. Dangling our feet over the side of an empty pool on a cool fall night. Over to the side there was a bon fire raging and people were making smores. Everyone was having a wonderful time talking and laughing and generally enjoying the atmosphere that cools and calms people of the frenzy of summer. But me?

Calm lasts only a moment and then I’m off seeking some form of passive entertainment. This particular night, I managed to find a 3 foot graham cracker and decided it would be a good idea to use it as a skate board in the empty pool. It really doesn’t last long, nor does it particularly impress myself to the party-goers.

Eventually the party moves inside and we are inside my friend’s house. Soon it is time to go and my friend explains the way to go home, and Sarah and I climb into my car and begin to head home. We reach our exit and there is an abandoned road block. We decide it would be best to walk the rest of the way since we’re at the exit and already close to home.

Soon we meet a bum and a prostitute setting up a shelter beneath one of the overpasses. They stop us to ask what is going on. But we thought they would know better than us. But no, their beater van had given up a little down the road and they were sheltering for the night.

We press on to make it home and get off the expressway to find the road blocked again. But this time there was a soldier at the block. He said we could not pass and we asked him why. He said, “this place no longer exists.”