Saturday, 25 January 2014
09:14:13 PM (GMT)
A Day in the life of: Neon Lights (Part I)
I have always been an individual who has appeared much older then his age would
suggest. At 13 I had a goatee and could grow a semi-sparse mustache. By the time I
was 15 - 16 I had already grown into my lanky body. I had filled out nicely, and my
constant flurry activity gave me a lithe and muscular body. I stood six feet and two
inches tall and a well manicured beard adorned my face. It was this gift of age, as I
put it, that allowed me to enter into circles of society much sooner than anyone of
you might have considering our ages.
It was summer and school had let out. And it was in the doldrums of the beginning
summer that I found the world a ready mistress. All it required was a bit of coaxing,
romancing, and a strong firm hand to ply at her expertly. At that age I had
befriended a sort of hooligan. His name was Kenny and he was a poker player. That was
his chosen profession. We would play long hours into the night on our small
battlefield as we moved and captured, then recaptured chess pieces at a local coffee
It was a hole-in the wall, with the stains of it's well used past covering the walls.
The thin patina giving the place an air of authenticity. It was there that I had met
many loves, and began on my adolescent adventures. These escapades should have been
forbidden to me. They should have warned me about the life I was getting myself into.
But this was the city of sin after all. It was that one night when a game of chess
didn't seem interesting enough. It was one of those nights that the body of a
beautiful girl would not appease -- although I tried both. From behind a face with
little scruples Kenny spoke, "I have somewhere I've been meaning to take you."
"Really, where at?" I queried.
"How old are you again?" He asked.
"15, why?" This back and forth was intriguing.
"Oh," He paused thoughtfully, "Well... You look old enough." He cracked a grin
flashing a coffee stained row of teeth.
I simply shrugged. Often our encounters were of this sort. He would vaguely suggest
an activity. And I being a brazen little fuck, would accept unquestioningly.
We walked over to the nearest bust stop and waited for the next one. I took a look at
my watch, it was 11:23PM. The thing about buses in Las Vegas was that they ran 24
hours. And often it was far easier to ride one into the center of the debauchery, the
strip, than to try and find a parking spot before wasting hours of your night doing
so. Soon enough a double-decker bus arrived and we made ourselves occupants. We
stood, knowing that the ride would be relatively short, and swayed back and forth as
the stop-and-go ballet of traffic began.
The neon lights kept getting closer, and the brightness was something to behold. In
the hours of the desolate morning people took to revelry. they took to their sin
quite easily. All being well oiled with liquors and spirit. The men wearing pressed
pants and shirts made of exotic materials. While the girls wore less and less. Skirts
that beckoned, shirts that revealed, and their glitter bespeckled eyes calling me
closer to them. This was the night, the first night, that I truly understood what
went on. A Carnival open year round.
To be continued...
Last edited: 26 January 2014