Flight 515

Things seen on a walk around my neighborhood early this evening, set to Radiohead’s Exit Music (for a Film):

• A white cat strolling down the unlit side of a nearby street with its tail up in the air, as if suggesting an aura of pompous refinement. Now that I mention it, it’s a somewhat fitting attitude for our little slice of sheltered suburbia.¹

• On the curb of a cul-de-sac buried within the inside of the street plan, an Indian mother watching several children (presumably not all her own) bike leisurely around the otherwise-empty circle, and an elderly man taking a sleeping baby (presumably not his own, either) for a ride in a stroller.

• A young girl of maybe six or seven in a mad dash down the sidewalk, trying to outrun her father’s steadily-coasting SUV down a gentle hill.

• Two landscapers working by the dim exterior lights of the nearest house, not looking distinctly sweaty and uncomfortable like the folks I’ve seen in a similar position for the past couple of months.

• A young, teenaged driver repeatedly attempting to properly back into his house’s garage, and ending up misaligned by a couple of feet each time. To be fair, I can’t consistently pull into my driveway either (and I had to five days a week for most of my summer), but I still can’t deny the amusement value. Sorry, man. No hard feelings.

• A terrific full moon.

Part two of an observational series.