By 2:30 a.m. I looped back into the cacophony. I had fled from the urban streets. It was a crescendo of raucousness, both of loud vehicles and people who had declared war on bedtime – and sensibility. Maybe daylight savings granted them another hour, but most of them were not advocating for carpe diem. The only thing they will be seizing is ibuprofen whenever they crawl out of bed later. I’m accustomed to aberrant traffic and people after midnight on Sunday morning, but this was wild. 

The rain had departed, leaving a beautiful, mist-filled 60° landscape. I found a couple of my favorite canopied and streetlightless neighborhoods. The trees dripped and pinged against the carpet of leaves the weather brought down. No truer Halloween smell of childhood could have been found. 

Around 3:15, I took a detour on Leverett from Poplar. I saw and heard a couple approaching. They discussed the relative paradox of seeking social interaction while simultaneously imbibing to such a degree that they would have no recollection of it. That’s not me paraphrasing in my particular way. They were obviously educated and accustomed to speaking like spilled thesauruses. I burst out laughing when I saw them and they loved my reaction. They were both pirates, except they had gender-reversed their costumes. 

“Are you out walking for leisure at this hour?”

I knew I had to repay their conversation with wit. “I’m currently investigating anecdotal reports of piracy.”

I went on to explain to them that I had heard their conversation way before I could see them clearly. 

“Ah! Yes, that’s true. We don’t drink but we do partake of the giggle smoke.”

Me: “Of course. That’s precisely why they refer to it as the high seas.”

They both laughed. The man, dressed impeccably as a woman, snorted. “How is it that such a pun didn’t occur to me?”

That’s how it came to be that I stood on the wide sidewalk at 3:20 a.m., having one of the most humor and pun-filled conversations I could possibly imagine. In another life, those people would be my tribe. 

It’s interesting to me that I deviated hard to get away from people, only to have my best conversation upon my return to the relatively busy streets. 

Today would have been my brother’s 61st birthday. If he were still alive, I would call him: “Happy birthday. How’s my favorite head-up-his-ass conservative doing?” He would make an obvious comment about Obama and then do his best Bill O’Reilly impression. 

PS did you know that Tom Cruise was born as Thomas Mapother IV?