The other night, Dale and I went uptown to enjoy a rare event. 2 days in a row off work on a Saturday and Sunday. This meant I could enjoy a busy night uptown and I love being in crowds. On top of all this, this would be the last weekend before the University’s exams started so many people were uptown to enjoy their last night before they had to smash through hours and days of paperwork. While this night was no St. Patrick Day size crowd, it was what I wanted to be in.
We walk uptown to a friendly bar called Skippers. It’s one of the few places here that appeal to both townies like us and the students. The entrance is pushed back off the side walk a bit by a little patio area caged in with a metal red fence and guarded by 2 old Ash trees. Some of the few Ash trees left in our area. We walk up to the heavy wooden doors and with each step you can better hear the multiple and separate groups of people laughing and chatting up storms over their drinks and baskets of waffle fries. The doors handles were humid from heat inside and the cold air outside. We step inside and are greeted by loud country music. One of the few genres I actually dislike. As we wade through the chairs and bodies, we sit down at the bar for a few drinks of our own as we talk about the sports and games being displayed on the small screens in front of us. All around us were different conversations and inquiries that I listened to while talking about the games to Dale. From time to time I would turn around to survey our surroundings. Eye contact was occasionally made with a few strangers and a head nod with a smile was made to acknowledge the existence of each other, then back to individual worlds inside of the small collection of communities that buzzed around the building.
I love crowds. Maybe im not the best at socializing, but I enjoy the presence of others. It brings the support that comes with being connected with the world around you and that reassurance of your existence in the universe.
I gravitate to crowds to show my existence. To me, simple recognition of existence is securing immortality of ones self. In a figurative way of course. For the same way species and items and companies are named after their creators and discoverers, leaving the mental impression of yourself on others is a way of your memory proceeding your life and presence. Even this, a blog post, is doing the same. That’s why I love crowds, it’s not partying and getting wreaked or proving to others you’re not a hermit. It might seem pointless to others, that’s because it kind of is. They ask “why?” and I ask “Why not?”.