Looking for a place to be. A nice place with a baseball game on TV. All my usual places are closed. I venture to Norwood even though the wonderful Perks is closed. I turn the corner and Napper Tandy's is open with parking out front even though Norwood is having their parade today, down Washington St. (the main st. through town), a quarter of a block away.
I settle down with a Magners and an ice water. I intend to limit my alcohol intake to a trickle.
To my pleasure, they have free Wi-Fi. I find a cozy corner with an electrical outlet and fire up my iBook. Baseball seems to be the Yankees so I catch up on my mail and Facebook connections.
After an hour or so, I've finished my Magners and two glasses of water. Things are fine except I need to use the Men's room. The parade has started and it's on the TV showing events from an angle about two blocks away. Time to potty.
Happily finished and washing my hands when a 50 caliber machine gun opens up, very close. To the floor I go. It's sticky and I'm confused because the 50 continues like there's serious shit going on. His bursts a a bit long and I figure his a newbie, a cherry boy getting his busted.
Fuck! I'm in Norwood, I'm in Norwood, I'm in Norwood, but the 50 continues it's long bursts, small arms join in, no AKs, then a big explosion, outgoing and definitely not a mortar.
Going outside I see a little Sherman tank going by. The fucking assholes are playing war. There goes another 50 to the left and what I assume was the first resumes to the right, further down Washington St. Fuck!
I squat in the doorway peering around the edge to see cheering people waving flags and a WWII Halftrack with a 50 on it firing.
Fuck!
I'm in Norwood, I'm in Norwood, I'm in Norwood, Massachusetts. Fuck! I'm shaking as I quickly move inside and collect my things. The firing has moved down the street further. I'm in Norwood, I'm in Norwood, I'm in Norwood.
I get the fuck out of there, fighting the urge to run in a low crouch. There's my car, I'm in Norwood, I'm in Norwood.
Off I go heading west, away from the firing, more salvos from the tanks, there are at least two of them. Fuck! Tears come, images flash, I'm taking back streets to get away and avoid the parade route.
Finally, no more firing but I'm shook. The images come, laughing dipshits in green. Camouflaged pinatas hanging from the ceiling. Bits of shit flying through the night air, flashes and explosions, the smell of rotting meat. Fuck! I'm in Massachusetts, I'm in the world, I am not there! Fuck! Fuck! Tears! Fuck!
I pull into the parking lot of my favorite hang-out. Closed. "Have a nice holiday".
Tears flow bringing relief and the sureness of where I am. I need to be around people, people without war stories.
I end up at the BBC (British Beer Company) on Route 1, across from the Walpole Mall. I find a place in the back where there are no servers but electrical outlets. It's the stage area when bands play here but no bands tonight. Write!
Baseball highlights on the TV. Crappy 70s and Country hits play on the PA. I think of Fresno.
I'm heading for home in a week and 3 days. Much more packing to do and feathers not to ruffle too badly as I rely on the kindness of friends, actually one true friend so stressed with his own situation, I'm wondering about the state of my karma.
What The Fuck! Over.
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