The power of human norming systems is awe-inspiring; peer pressure, even when many of those “peers” are from another whole generation of history, can make a person do almost anything.
Imagine: you arrive at a public park featuring one of the finest panoramas of our fair city in town, on a warm and dry fall evening with the almost full harvest moon shining brightly above, and, at first, you can’t possibly see why anyone would duct tape beer cans together and affix them to their hand to make progressively taller “wizard staffs” to quaff from and do battle with, but after a couple of cold ones yourself and having also imbibed the strange mixture of dystopian fantasy tale and frat party bacchanalia engendered by the activity itself, you can’t possibly imagine why anyone would not join in the sport.
It’s likely that P.J. Diddy ended up with the longest and perhaps widest tower in the end, although the Angry Hippy, boasting that nobody in the world is less competitive than he, had the early lead in the clubhouse.
Later, there was ample opportunity to feel like a kid again, even for those who still are and that old douchecock sonzabitch Miles was right about only getting one chance to go down the slide for the first time, so you might as well go head first and upside-down.
Eventually, though, the hive mind coalesces on departure and pretty soon, just as you’d hoped, you’re following a line of blinkies down the Hipster Highway, an experience that can’t help but evoke a bit of nostalgia for jungles that once were but which also reminds you that there’s no time like the present, especially on nights like this.
There was magic in the air: how else could you get from Airport Way to Chinatown with eyes closed?
And then, another whole world in the mirror, a land where wizards dance and unicorns, thanks to their peers, are never kept down.
It’s likely that P.J. Diddy ended up with the longest and perhaps widest tower in the end, although the Angry Hippy, boasting that nobody in the world is less competitive than he, had the early lead in the clubhouse.
Later, there was ample opportunity to feel like a kid again, even for those who still are and that old douchecock sonzabitch Miles was right about only getting one chance to go down the slide for the first time, so you might as well go head first and upside-down.
Eventually, though, the hive mind coalesces on departure and pretty soon, just as you’d hoped, you’re following a line of blinkies down the Hipster Highway, an experience that can’t help but evoke a bit of nostalgia for jungles that once were but which also reminds you that there’s no time like the present, especially on nights like this.
There was magic in the air: how else could you get from Airport Way to Chinatown with eyes closed?
And then, another whole world in the mirror, a land where wizards dance and unicorns, thanks to their peers, are never kept down.
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