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Show 147 The father of at least three who was berated on the boardwalk after stepping on Amy's foot. The dialogue: "Maybe if you would spend less time having children you could leam to navigate a fucking boardwalk, asshole." The pirate show and its confusing conflict between the female and male pirates on the glassy sea. The switch from conflict to dancing. The warmth of the flames when one of the boats was destroyed for the second time that hour. Amy's own switch in emotion, between euphoric delight with the show, and the black hole loathing of people who obstructed her view. Greek Gods in the mall who told us to buy furniture. The setting that contributed to the fight on the old strip; particularly the flashing ceiling light red lips and the same Rolling Stones song every fifteen minutes. The bad omen moon hovering guillotine-style in the gray sky that must have looked dark black from anywhere else in the world. Stumbling into the hotel room at 5 AM, mechanically forcing the tooth brushing process, falling into our questionable bed, bleariness and smoke smell lingering. The startling lack of sound in the morning; the biegeness of the hotel lobby. The danishes we ate for breakfast. The number of cups of push-lever coffee we had (five-one for Amy, four for me). The list we found written on the back of an |
