[Originally written 2.14.06]
Aside from the deeply discounted candy at CVS, I had actually succeeded in forgetting all about this gooey ‘love’ infested, sad excuse for a ‘holiday’. Until yesterday while checking my e-mail as I simultaneously updating Live Journal, because I can mutli-task like that and finding a note from my favorite Carny which requested my presence in Jersey.
Do I ever say no to Jon? Well, it depends on what is being asked, I suppose. Seriously though, I would have to be a fool to turn down an invitation from him. Besides, I find his presence in my life to be a refreshing change of pace from thinking about the most recent failed relationship. Who cares about what an ex is doing when you have an amazing friend to cheer you up?
Jon had instructed me to meet him in that magical land called Cherry Hill. It took me a little over half an hour to get there, only due to taking an exit I knew I should not have and getting sidetracked. Driving to New Jersey from Philly is still something I am getting used to, so I do not feel as though I can entirely be faulted for the small mistake. Other than that, I had no problem at all finding the parking lot.
It had only been about a month or so since we last saw each other, but that did not prevent us from having an epic and slightly ridiculous Hollywood Moment in the parking lot. You know, when your eyes meet and you both smile at the same time, then embrace one another as though your life depends on it while drinking in the happiness. The world stops and a phantom orchestra swell drowns out reality – the only thing that exists is you and the other person, your heart warming with indescribable love.
We sat in the back seat of Jon’s ’49 Mercury with the heat on and smoked a blunt, and during the natural course of conversation I expressed my concern about the brush with death he had over the Summer, mentioning that I was not fond of the way I had discovered the information. He agreed that in the future I be contacted immediately if anything ever happens to him, though assured me his days of being a daredevil was over for good as he had too many things left to do and had no desire of losing me due to his own foolishness.
Half the blunt was gone and it was decided that we would go have some fun in the mall, but not before Jon presented me with a little Anti-V’Day gift. Not that I need drugs to have a good time, though I admit that doing them with him always yields in an interesting experience. At first we traded off small bumps and passed a flask of whiskey between us, but neither of us wanted to get caught seeing as how we were in a crowded parking lot, so we stepped it up and dragged until all the coke and booze was gone.
Exiting the Mercury, Jon took my hand and together we entered the mall. Let me paint the picture for you. We were both dressed in all black from head to toe; me in a black pleated skirt paired with pothole tights along with my Vanity Kills baby-T and a military style jacket; Jon looked damn good in black jeans, T-shirt and leather jacket, hair greased up in a sick pompadour. We both rocked black leather boots, though he always towers a good foot or so over me.
The mall was one of those somewhat upscale types, where you can just tell that all the people have money, but they sure got out of our way while we stumbled from store to store. For the most part, we loudly and obnoxiously made fun of all the sappy crap that was currently on sale to entice those bastards that were heartless and waited for the last minute to pick at the bones with the rest of the insensitive vultures who were there to buy whatever they could just to show their special lady they didn’t forget. Six different stores politely asked us to leave, and we obliged, but not before Jon announced that the people buying the shit were just putting money into the pockets of the greedy corporations. While I don’t remember exactly what he said, I know that I could not stop laughing.
We totally caused havoc in Hot Topic by criticizing the store for its high prices of inferior quality clothing and creating an army of mindless kids that shop there to score cool points with their friends, while at the same time corrupting and bastardizing several subcultures, forcing them to blend into one, decipherless mass, stealing the identity of those who are hardcore about the scene they belong to which is now being destroyed by posers and wannabes. They did not appreciate the speech and requested we take our business else where. The next target was Spencer’s, where Jon was complaining that he found the use of the iron cross as a fashion accessory to be insulting and insensitive to Holocaust survivors. Their employees had no idea what to say and I encouraged Jon to leave before they thought he was threatening them or something equally absurd.
One of the stores must have called security, as uniformed mall cops showed up and escorted us to the exit. We caused a scene on the way out, accusing the guards of being part of the conspiracy, being paid off by the corporations and anything else we could think of. Jon was shouting as loudly as he could that we were being abused and generally created a scene as we were shown the door, so to speak. We were asked to leave and were not welcomed to return. Not that I really care, as I have no intention of actually ever going to that mall again.
Smoked the other half of the blunt and then we hit up the Cherry Hill Diner for some eats, namely our usual huge breakfast foods feast. That turned into hours of laughter and good conversation while we drank several cups of coffee. As much as I wanted to stay out late, I still have no key for the house and did not want to get locked out. Jon kept assuring me that I should not have worried about it and I feel kind of foolish for failing to pick up on such an obvious hint. It took about ten or fifteen minutes to actually say good-bye, because neither of us wanted to let go.
My mind was in a whole other world after I drove back over the bridge, and so I wound up driving around Philly with a huge smile on my face while soaking in the city.
Right now I am going to head out and run a few errands before hitting up South Street with my favorite seven-foot South Jersey hell-raising hillbilly.