I walked over to Garland/112 in the unseasonably cool dark early morning. The plan was to watch the panoramic dark sky for meteors. It’s one of the best nearby places because I can walk down the middle of the road without so much concern that a sidewalk will trip me up.
As I approached the last side street, Ernie Jacks Blvd., I heard somebody driving fast heading north. But I wasn’t seeing the flickering shadowy lights ahead of me caused by headlights. A white vehicle roared past, traveling at about 90 mph. No headlights. No interior lights of any kind. Cannonball Run came to mind.
Almost simultaneously, blue lights flickered against the white fence along the west side of the road. For a second, I thought an unseen police vehicle fired up its lights as the occupant watched the vehicle roar passed.
It wasn’t. Instead, several police vehicles were at the apartments on the right side. I took a right and walked down the side dead end street to see what kind of excitement might be going on. The voices were clear but for some reason I couldn’t understand a word.
The flashing lights and backlit effect created another illusion. I took a couple of pictures because the boundaries of the trees and the contradicting lights made it look like there was a cloud floating about 20 feet in front of me. It’s not real. The canopy of the trees created The strange optical illusion.
It was a beautiful and quiet walk. Almost no breeze, with the temperature actually falling as I wound my way through the dark neighborhoods. Just the insects and occasional voices from unseen people who had refused to give up the night and go to bed.
For some reason, the movie Backrooms kept coming to mind. If there were such magical places, this would have been the morning where I would not have been surprised to find one. Like magical Narnia wardrobes, except scattered in shadowy liminal spaces.
I’m definitely going to have to bring out my blue tape and put up some hidden doorways one of these mornings. As a prank, but also as a way to identify people who are either strange enough or magical enough to want to walk up and touch them. Just in case. Those are my people.
By the time I reluctantly surrendered, there was a breeze to accompany me and the temperature had dropped to 70. That was magical enough.
I didn’t quite take the walk I expected this morning. As I neared the trail crossing on Poplar, some kind of four-wheeler or golf cart came racing from the north and made an extremely fast turn and loop into the apartments adjacent to the trail. I knew something weird was going on.
In less than a minute, two police vehicles approached. They turned their lights off as they turned left/north and began looping in and out the apartments all the way down to where the trail abuts the Agri farm.
Naturally, I sensed adventure and walked through the backside of the apartments. As I meandered through, I could see the police going through the apartments with their lights off.
As I came back up, I waved down one of the two police cars that was driving down the main side street with its lights off.
“Are y’all by chance looking for someone driving an ATV or golf cart?”
The officer in the passenger seat looked very reluctant to answer. The driver simply said, “No, we’re not.”
He answered in a way that told me the conversation was over. I kept walking, turning to make my own loops through the short side streets. The police continued their lights-off patrol.
After about 20 minutes, I returned to Poplar and kept walking. I know the sidewalks meticulously. There’s a stretch that’s not safe to walk on. The trail improvements on the eastside don’t extend past the trail access. So that section of sidewalk is dangerous. Walking next to the curb, I did like I always do and walked against traffic flow. Not that there was any traffic. In fact, they only traffic I had seen were the police officers with their lights off. And they would have passed me on my right on the other side of the road.
Until the expensive new student housing gets built in the wild oasis area where Leverett ends, there’s no incentive to make the sidewalks safe past the trail. They didn’t even bother to put lights in past the trail. Inexplicably, they put in beautiful modern lighting all the way from the trail up to Gregg. Where almost no one lives, leaving the densely crowded opposite side between the trail and Leverett completely dark. Makes a lot of sense. For those who know the area, that’s where the little building that is supposedly an art project sits, waiting for the next graffiti artist to ignore the purpose of the building.
Just as I was about to step back up under the sidewalk where it became mostly safe again, one of the police vehicles slowed down. I assumed they were going to ask me if I had seen anything.
“Do you mind stepping up on the sidewalk?” It was one of the officers.
“Yeah, of course.” What else was I going to say? Everyone on Poplar knows the sidewalk is a trip hazard. Not to mention the people who rent the Veo scooters and ride them 30 mph in the dark. I’ve been doing this for years and probably know more about this neighborhood than almost anybody.
That’s when the previously unifentified four-wheeler passed me. By the markings on it, I saw that it was obviously part of the efforts of the police department to locate whoever they were chasing through the neighborhood.
I walked quite a bit more, watching the little four-wheeler zip around Leverett, Poplar, and all the side streets. They obviously didn’t find whoever they were looking for. Had they asked me, I would have told them that only one vehicle came into the entire area in the interim. I knew exactly where it parked. Only one other pedestrian came through any of the streets at that hour.
Not that I am a criminal, but I know what everyone else knows. If you’re anywhere in the area and don’t want to be found, you step off the wide trail and into the shallow creek. Especially in the area where what’s known as flat rock is.
The last picture captures how dark it is through there, exactly where the sidewalk can’t be trusted. The middle of the picture captures the brilliance of the endless stream of modern streetlights they installed.
The police, of course, pulled a U2, because they obviously didn’t find what they were looking for. If only there were a pedestrian like me they could have asked. It may not sound like it, but I’m amused.
And I appreciate the adventure.
Only because I’m a preachy bastard will I say a few more words. If someone is worried about my safety, I would recommend they fix the sidewalk and give streetlights the attention they need. But all of that effort is pointless if you’re going to drive up and down dark neighborhood streets with no lights on. This is doubly true If you’re driving a four-wheeler on the streets and sidewalks in the dark.
But what do I know. I’m just a guy who loves walking the dark neighborhood streets at 2:00 in the morning.
About twenty feet from this house, it started raining lightly. The colors were beautiful, so I thought I pressed the long exposure button. Instead, I identified the tree as a person in portrait mode. I love the happy accident picture that resulted.
As I walked further down the dark street, I could hear a man angrily shouting. Without really thinking about doing it, I cut along the building, getting closer to the disembodied voice.
“You’re going to get a free Uber ride with bracelets if you don’t stop shouting.” While I didn’t scream, I shouted it loud enough for him to hear me.
“Eff you!” I paused for a second, in admiration of his eloquence.
“Okay,” I answered.
“Okay what?”
“I will not be using my mobile app to place my order.” I could hardly keep a straight face as I answered.
Miraculously, the man went silent. I waited. He had no follow-up. My job for the morning was done.
PS The heat and humidity beat on me like an old man slapping the top of his 1972 television.
For all of you who doubt that rat snakes will get up into the trees on the side of the creek, let me reassure you that they indeed will. They’re harmless. But snakes are exactly like Aslan. You can’t be 100% sure. They are beautiful in their own way.
I prowled downtown Fayetteville and Dickson Street in the dark. There are always remnant people from the night before. Singing in the parking garages for acoustics, sitting bleary-eyed on curbs and benches, slurring their words and futilely trying to get their dead phones to work. Some were trying to break down equipment and food, tired and eager to get home. Even after 3:00, there were people in the back of some bars still not wanting to surrender the night. A woman waved at me from way up on her penthouse balcony, leaving me to wonder whether the drink she held was a continuation from Saturday celebrations or coffee to acknowledge that Sunday was upon us.
Across from the Walton Arts center, I made the mistake of looking at the hands of a homeless person bundled and covered on the bench. That image stuck in my head and made me feel helpless. The wheelchair sitting at the end of the bench didn’t help. I experienced the privileged dissonance of me walking around on a sleepless night in the same universe this person slept wherever they could.
On the corner of Block and West, I laughed at the unlikely coincidence of Calle’s loudspeaker choice of music, blaring alleged entertainment to no one on the abandoned streets: “X Gon’ Give It To You” by DMX. It was so random and bizarre that I would walk by at that precise moment.
I didn’t want to walk to end. The quiet darkness contained too many colors, sounds, and sights. Even the beautiful houses each had their own quiet beauty.
I was so excited to see my prison jumpsuit and handcuffs arrive when I got off work. Even though it’s hot, I’ve done my inaugural walk up and down busy Gregg Avenue. I couldn’t stop laughing because I could see people slowing down. I got a couple of honks.
One of my older neighbors shook his head, laughing. “You’re going to get arrested.”
Restless interminable night, but a beautifully still morning. Overcoming my unusual reluctance, I hit the streets early, wandering aimlessly. At its darkest, the night held an unusual number people driving, probably due to ill-advised post graduation celebrations.
On Greenvalley Avenue, I accidentally threw my phone as a large deer ran right past me as I stood taking a picture. It ran down to the intersection and stopped there to watch me. I usually spot them at least a street over near the bottom of what I call dead man’s hill.
Birdsong echoed flatly in the absence of any breeze or wind, creating the perfect introspective atmosphere for anyone out enjoying it.
Lost in color is the best way to describe my early morning. 1000 birds, all of them singing, and two I had never seen before. Waiting for the sunrise and watching the clouds race over me, revealing blues, purples, and infinite variations between. Even my little car, a half-mile away, looked like it had been forged from the blue of a Caribbean Sea.
I wandered down through a culvert that I probably should have left unattended. Once I reached the creek bottom, at least a dozen gray catbirds chirped a symphony for me. Going through the brush that didn’t want to be penetrated, I ran into Pine and Palm warblers. Yellow looked freakishly novel to me.
Suddenly having crystal clear vision has been a knock in the head. I catch myself staring not only at my prisms with new eyes, but shadows and variations that have been lost to me. And yes, I can see the dirt and dust that inevitably accumulates. But who has time for that? You can dust and de-dust without pause, never reaching the end of it. But you can also go out and wander.
Occasionally, there have been sirens wailing in the background, because where there are people, there is turmoil. Even if you do everything right, that same turmoil will frequent your life at random intervals. It shouldn’t push your eyes and ears away from enjoying the stupidly simple things all around you.
But what do I know? I’m just a guy wandering around with soaked feet and a smile on my face.
As the sky darkened and the wind blew, I walked barefoot along the new connecting trail spur that runs north of Lakeside.
It was once an oasis and almost unpassable. It’s a modern convenience. It still holds a sliver of the natural magic it once did, but I can’t appreciate it yet.
The expanse of exotic cattails is fighting back. You can see it on the north side of the paved trail, a boggy mess. When I went through today, I smiled because a few dozen of these alien cattails are growing back fast, after being destroyed.
I watched a giant of a skateboarder roll down the long hill, his lanky arms held horizontal to the ground as if he were flying.
I saw dozens of errant golf balls from the course surrounding the small lake. They look like perfect little eggs, scattered in the grass, rocks, and mud.
As beautiful and relaxing as it was, I still hold a grudge that the unusable natural habitat has been traversed surgically with concrete.
I started the walk trying to protect myself against the cold, rain, and blustery wind. I gave up and let it try to win the war of wills. There was magic out there early this morning, because I had a little bit of it trapped in my head before I went out there.
Don’t get me wrong, I would have preferred the weather that allowed me to walk hundreds of miles in the dark during the summer. But that’s the kind of stupid thinking that convinces us we need to wait until everything’s perfect before we do anything.
By the time I entered the inconvenience store and got another delicious cup of hot coffee, I’ll admit the walk had me chilled to the bone. That’s why I call these stolen moments. I stole this cold beautiful walk from all the excuses I could have easily given to skip today.
P.S. Parenthetically Speaking 