While tropical storms slowly brew and approach…
While workloads pile up on desks and papers stack higher, demanding to be graded…
While bills accumulate, as bank account figures sink lower….
While boyfriend-hopefuls ring, begging attention…
I prefer to pour myself another drink, and wash the hot soapy dishes…. and gaze out my small window above the sink, and dream…. dream….dream.
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
Monday, August 28, 2006
Saturday, August 26, 2006
A Rather Enjoyable Announcement
It is one of my strongest held beliefs that these days, more-so than days previously lived in by our ancestors, are more hectic and mind-numbingly complicated than should be expected of people to handle. Terror alerts, lawsuits, toxins, traffic, digital EVERYTHING, the disappearance of the middle class, rape of the ethical media, scandals, corperatization of America….. it all has taken its toll and slowly seeped it’s blackness into our daily lives, tainting every part of our beings.
Which is why it is also my belief that to cope, it is necessary for every human to be working toward…. a dream.
Yes, a dream.
This summer, as I drove the Aquarius around the country, I armed myself with a pen and red velvet book…. ready to take on the task of discovering hidden American dreams of ordinary people. Within numerous towns nationwide, many citizens were approached by me- a stranger with shaggy hair tucked under a hat, jumping barefoot out of a VW, padding across the pavement toward them, and demanding them write three things for him- their name, where they are from, and a dream that they are currently working on for one person- themselves.
This book begins with my own dream.
“Matty McManson, Port Prozac, Florida…. I have a dream to drive a Volkswagen van around the United States.”
During the course of this summer… it scared me how many people stared at me with wide eyes of astonishment… as they came to realize that they did not have a dream to write for me. Or perhaps they did, but had forgotten about it. Or maybe circumstances had pushed it so far out of their mind, they were just starting to remember it, and realizing how long it had been since they thought about it.
As I was organizing my classroom three weeks ago, back home, at interesting, and dangerous thought crossed my mind-
“Wait a second…. I completed my dream.”
It was at that moment I realized I had become one of them- someone who didn’t know what dream they were currently working on.
To be honest, it scared the living hell out of me. I was now an empty shell, void of any crazy plan, any illogical scheme…. no daring dream to speak of burning inside of me.
That night, I returned home and sat down on my couch with a drink in one hand, The Road Less Traveled in the other. I had a plan- find a dream.
It was to be something exciting- life changing.
It was to be something meaningful- making me proud when all is said and done.
It was to be something… new- never been done before by me- completely uncharted territory.
Life changing, exciting, meaningful, uncharted territory….
This is how I came to set a goal… a new dream… something to systematically work toward, doing whatever I have to, to ensure I achieve it… morals, logic, and reasoning be damned.
I, Matty McManson…. will be married this May.
Which is why it is also my belief that to cope, it is necessary for every human to be working toward…. a dream.
Yes, a dream.
This summer, as I drove the Aquarius around the country, I armed myself with a pen and red velvet book…. ready to take on the task of discovering hidden American dreams of ordinary people. Within numerous towns nationwide, many citizens were approached by me- a stranger with shaggy hair tucked under a hat, jumping barefoot out of a VW, padding across the pavement toward them, and demanding them write three things for him- their name, where they are from, and a dream that they are currently working on for one person- themselves.
This book begins with my own dream.
“Matty McManson, Port Prozac, Florida…. I have a dream to drive a Volkswagen van around the United States.”
During the course of this summer… it scared me how many people stared at me with wide eyes of astonishment… as they came to realize that they did not have a dream to write for me. Or perhaps they did, but had forgotten about it. Or maybe circumstances had pushed it so far out of their mind, they were just starting to remember it, and realizing how long it had been since they thought about it.
As I was organizing my classroom three weeks ago, back home, at interesting, and dangerous thought crossed my mind-
“Wait a second…. I completed my dream.”
It was at that moment I realized I had become one of them- someone who didn’t know what dream they were currently working on.
To be honest, it scared the living hell out of me. I was now an empty shell, void of any crazy plan, any illogical scheme…. no daring dream to speak of burning inside of me.
That night, I returned home and sat down on my couch with a drink in one hand, The Road Less Traveled in the other. I had a plan- find a dream.
It was to be something exciting- life changing.
It was to be something meaningful- making me proud when all is said and done.
It was to be something… new- never been done before by me- completely uncharted territory.
Life changing, exciting, meaningful, uncharted territory….
This is how I came to set a goal… a new dream… something to systematically work toward, doing whatever I have to, to ensure I achieve it… morals, logic, and reasoning be damned.
I, Matty McManson…. will be married this May.
Wednesday, August 23, 2006
Welcome Back... to R. Nixon Elementary
This morning in New York City, Demetrius Whitman entered the JFK airport in New York City in a rush. He was to leave to Australia in three hours, for the Broadway-ish show in which he starred was on tour, and to be showing in Melbourne in 48 hours. He probably had time to grab his coffee, as he is always on time and doesn’t like to rush…. it causes too much chaos for him.
In San Diego, Billy Mierovich awoke on the couch of the friends’ house in which he resides. He more than likely turned on the TV, and wondered what he’d be doing today. As he shook off his hangover with either a glass of water or a beer, he wondered if he’d drive down to Ocean Beach and tan, or maybe go to the mall and get a new shirt. Either way, he needed to look good for tonight (as he does every night), for he is a bartender in the gay district.
In Montreal, Canada, Emily Penswell was already awake, and boiling water in the microwave for tea with the rest of her family, who have flown in from Manchester, England, to spend the last week of her trip to the United States with her. She doesn’t really care what they see or where they go today. She’s been lonely on her journeys…. and couldn’t be happier for them to be with her.
And thousands of miles from any of these souls (whom he’d met on his cross-country trip in his VW van)…. was Matty McManson (me), pulling his Oldsmobile out onto Surfside Drive, nearly smashing into a speeding white BMW flying down his street.
And of course, I was late for work. I was thinking of them (Demetrius, Billy, and Emily), as I drove… contemplating what each of them was up to.
I was envious of their positions in life currently. As I have joined the ranks of the over-worked, under-paid teachers of Florida, my life during the school year just doesn’t always sound as nice and relaxing as my friends’ anymore. Which is why I sometimes like to pretend I’m them, instead of me, especially when I’m driving to work….
Welcome back to R. Nixon Elementary. Come take a walk with me
Meet the principal, Mr. Collins. Yes, he is still crazy (in my personal and professional opinion). He can be understanding and a great leader. He can also yell, scream, holler, and just generally be frighteningly bitchy. Don’t get on his bad side.
Meet Receptionist Rita… and yes, you can shake her hand. She doesn’t bite. Good morning, Rita. Nice to see you again.
Good morning, Saint Sandy, the bookkeeper.
And again, say hi to Bahamian Betty. She is still unorganized, impossible to communicate with sometimes, but one of my best friends and a great teacher. Love you too, Betty.
Meet Homebody Hannah, across the hall from me. She’s in my old room. She’s sweet, she’s neat, and she’s fairly petite. I’m warming up to her quickly. She’s our newest third grade teacher. Single. Serious. But sometimes smiling.
Ahhhh… Cantankerous Connie…. we all can see you’re back for another year. Mind you, watch her… she bites. However, in all fairness, this year both her and I have very carefully (and painfully) made attempts to get along.
Down in the sixth grade hall is a fun new addition- her name’s Content Carrie. I’m calling her content because she always seems happy and outgoing. Her fiancé, Mechanic Mike, just fixed my car’s wheel bearing. That’s why I was able to concentrate on what my friends were doing this morning, instead of how to drive it so the wheel doesn’t fall off.
And in Robin’s old room (before she bolted to Virginia), is a new friend of mine, Merry Mel. She’s a breath of fresh air- bubbly, excited, not afraid to go to gay bars with me, and a shared sense of humor. Merry Mel is going to keep me sane this year. She has truly become a great friend.
Let’s not forget my room, room 302, where 16 students will be entering in 40 minutes. Meet all of them… then use the germ-X on your hands. They’re messy. But loveable. Just don’t get their mothers mad at you- they’re complete Desperate Housewife bitches, with nothing better to do than worry about their children and annoy you.
Yes, this is my job, and sometimes (like this morning) I really do drive to school thinking of friends from times past, picturing what they’re doing in the present, and wondering if I’d be happier being more like them in the future. But deep down, I know that if I wasn’t doing this job, I would truly be unhappy. I have no other choice- I love teaching, and cannot be anything near happy without doing it. So join me, as I start up another year of teaching at R. Nixon Elementary.
I cannot promise it will be a Broadway show in New York, a provocative gay bar in San Diego, or an exciting vacation in another country. But I promise-
it will be interesting….
In San Diego, Billy Mierovich awoke on the couch of the friends’ house in which he resides. He more than likely turned on the TV, and wondered what he’d be doing today. As he shook off his hangover with either a glass of water or a beer, he wondered if he’d drive down to Ocean Beach and tan, or maybe go to the mall and get a new shirt. Either way, he needed to look good for tonight (as he does every night), for he is a bartender in the gay district.
In Montreal, Canada, Emily Penswell was already awake, and boiling water in the microwave for tea with the rest of her family, who have flown in from Manchester, England, to spend the last week of her trip to the United States with her. She doesn’t really care what they see or where they go today. She’s been lonely on her journeys…. and couldn’t be happier for them to be with her.
And thousands of miles from any of these souls (whom he’d met on his cross-country trip in his VW van)…. was Matty McManson (me), pulling his Oldsmobile out onto Surfside Drive, nearly smashing into a speeding white BMW flying down his street.
And of course, I was late for work. I was thinking of them (Demetrius, Billy, and Emily), as I drove… contemplating what each of them was up to.
I was envious of their positions in life currently. As I have joined the ranks of the over-worked, under-paid teachers of Florida, my life during the school year just doesn’t always sound as nice and relaxing as my friends’ anymore. Which is why I sometimes like to pretend I’m them, instead of me, especially when I’m driving to work….
Welcome back to R. Nixon Elementary. Come take a walk with me
Meet the principal, Mr. Collins. Yes, he is still crazy (in my personal and professional opinion). He can be understanding and a great leader. He can also yell, scream, holler, and just generally be frighteningly bitchy. Don’t get on his bad side.
Meet Receptionist Rita… and yes, you can shake her hand. She doesn’t bite. Good morning, Rita. Nice to see you again.
Good morning, Saint Sandy, the bookkeeper.
And again, say hi to Bahamian Betty. She is still unorganized, impossible to communicate with sometimes, but one of my best friends and a great teacher. Love you too, Betty.
Meet Homebody Hannah, across the hall from me. She’s in my old room. She’s sweet, she’s neat, and she’s fairly petite. I’m warming up to her quickly. She’s our newest third grade teacher. Single. Serious. But sometimes smiling.
Ahhhh… Cantankerous Connie…. we all can see you’re back for another year. Mind you, watch her… she bites. However, in all fairness, this year both her and I have very carefully (and painfully) made attempts to get along.
Down in the sixth grade hall is a fun new addition- her name’s Content Carrie. I’m calling her content because she always seems happy and outgoing. Her fiancé, Mechanic Mike, just fixed my car’s wheel bearing. That’s why I was able to concentrate on what my friends were doing this morning, instead of how to drive it so the wheel doesn’t fall off.
And in Robin’s old room (before she bolted to Virginia), is a new friend of mine, Merry Mel. She’s a breath of fresh air- bubbly, excited, not afraid to go to gay bars with me, and a shared sense of humor. Merry Mel is going to keep me sane this year. She has truly become a great friend.
Let’s not forget my room, room 302, where 16 students will be entering in 40 minutes. Meet all of them… then use the germ-X on your hands. They’re messy. But loveable. Just don’t get their mothers mad at you- they’re complete Desperate Housewife bitches, with nothing better to do than worry about their children and annoy you.
Yes, this is my job, and sometimes (like this morning) I really do drive to school thinking of friends from times past, picturing what they’re doing in the present, and wondering if I’d be happier being more like them in the future. But deep down, I know that if I wasn’t doing this job, I would truly be unhappy. I have no other choice- I love teaching, and cannot be anything near happy without doing it. So join me, as I start up another year of teaching at R. Nixon Elementary.
I cannot promise it will be a Broadway show in New York, a provocative gay bar in San Diego, or an exciting vacation in another country. But I promise-
it will be interesting….
Sunday, August 20, 2006
The Current Numbers of my life
Dollars in the bank- about 900
Amount owed to bill collectors- I’d imagine around 1200
Amount needed to fix both vehicles- 400
How much do I really have then? - Negative 700 (fuck, oh fuck)
Times told parents “I’m gay” via voice mail- 1
Days not called by upset parents- 14
Time felt tormented by evil principal Mr. Collins- 3 (much better this year)
Cases of gingivitis (apparently from losing toothbrush in van and not brushing teeth for a few days towards end of trip) – 1
Outstanding dental appointments- 0 (sigh…. note to self)
Vehicles properly working- 0
Vehicles posing threat to my own mortal existence- 2
Days to pay insurance bill before insurance is cancelled on both evil vehicles- 2
Bottles of alcohol left in freezer- ½ bottle of rum (need to budget that in…. note to self: buy more)
Husbands with big bank accounts- 0 (damn)
Boyfriends with big smiles- 0 (double damn)
Creeps who instant message me, wanting to be boyfriends with big creepy smiles: 4
Number of students who depend on me to forget this list so that I can teach them tomorrow, with nothing else on my mind but their education: 17
All in all, I’d say it adds up pretty well. Wouldn’t you?
Amount owed to bill collectors- I’d imagine around 1200
Amount needed to fix both vehicles- 400
How much do I really have then? - Negative 700 (fuck, oh fuck)
Times told parents “I’m gay” via voice mail- 1
Days not called by upset parents- 14
Time felt tormented by evil principal Mr. Collins- 3 (much better this year)
Cases of gingivitis (apparently from losing toothbrush in van and not brushing teeth for a few days towards end of trip) – 1
Outstanding dental appointments- 0 (sigh…. note to self)
Vehicles properly working- 0
Vehicles posing threat to my own mortal existence- 2
Days to pay insurance bill before insurance is cancelled on both evil vehicles- 2
Bottles of alcohol left in freezer- ½ bottle of rum (need to budget that in…. note to self: buy more)
Husbands with big bank accounts- 0 (damn)
Boyfriends with big smiles- 0 (double damn)
Creeps who instant message me, wanting to be boyfriends with big creepy smiles: 4
Number of students who depend on me to forget this list so that I can teach them tomorrow, with nothing else on my mind but their education: 17
All in all, I’d say it adds up pretty well. Wouldn’t you?
Saturday, August 19, 2006
An Interesting End, an Interesting Beginning
Tick…. tick…. tick…. the little analog clock on the dashboard continued pounding out its obnoxiously loud reminders at me.
‘Time is ending….. time is about to start…. time is counting down… my entire life is about to change, and I have no way of stopping it. It’s all about the timing, you see. It is an inevitable disaster approaching me. Fuck. Hell. Fuck and hell. Fuck, hell and damnit. Why can’t I just turn this stupid van around and make this all stop???’
These are the crazy thoughts I was having, as I roared down the dark freeway toward the Florida border in my Volkswagen van three weeks ago. It was three in the morning, and I was racing against time to get my van back into Florida and to the small Atlantic coastal town of Port Problem.
I had a lot on my mind. How couldn’t I?
The Aquarius was starting it again- the stalling out. I watched the needle fall from 70 to 55, as the entire van began shaking due to the engine shitting out, misfiring, coughing, and slowly grabbing back a hold of itself. Was I really going to get back to Port Problem? The van had made it thousands of miles, and four break-downs so far. This upcoming one, however, seemed a bit bigger than the rest.
Then, of course, came the money issue- which is the harsh fact that I just didn’t have any. Driving around the entire U.S. in two months had drained my sad little checking account dry. How was I to live with no money when I returned home?
Next in my mental line of issues, was my friend Robin. Time was moving in upon our friendship, dooming us to just a few days before her departure from my life. Would she be all right? Would she like her new home in Virginia? Who would look after her?
But perhaps the biggest mind-teaser of all, was words Robin had said to me, just a month or two prior to this night. “Make it a promise, Matty. Before you enter Florida, you MUST call your parents and tell them.. That way, you’ll be done with your trip, and you can start up your life with no more secrets. Make it a rule! No entering Florida without that phone call!”
So now I sat wide-eyed, deliriously tired and overly stressed, watching the second hand tick excitedly around the clock, counting down the minutes until I was to make a life-changing phone call to North Dakota.
Please understand… I’m not crazy. Really! I swear! But that night, I was determined to keep this promise to Robin, and more importantly to myself and my parents. It had to be right then, and right there, no questions asked. A promise kept.
As I steered my van over into an exit off I-10, I was remembering- remembering the last year and a half when I was finally getting along with my parents, and come to know them as friends. As I pulled into and parked in the lot of a tacky, neon-signed gas station, I was contemplating- contemplating how many months it would take them to get over this news. And as I was walking around that gas station to an unlit forested area in the back and pulling out my phone, I was hoping- hoping someday they would forgive me for what I was about to do.
Upon opening my phone, I saw the time. It was almost four a.m.
“What are you thinking?” I saw aloud to myself. “You can’t call them now. You can’t just wake them up to talk this late. That’s nuts.”
In hindsight, mind you…. I fully realize now calling them directly at 4 in the morning would’ve been a better idea than what I instead decided to do.
“Hmmm…” my worn out mind decided. “I’ll just call and leave a message for them…. Oh, damnit, I can’t call their mobile phones. That might wake them up as well…. Fuck…. Oh, I know…. I could call mom’s work, and leave her a voice message there.”
Again, I tell you… knowing what I know now…. I completely understand that this was a very stupid thing for me to do. Downright dumb. Reckless. Inexcusable.
My mother’s voice came over my mobile, announcing that she’s away from her desk. I waited for the beep, and then started talking- telling her the secret- which would see me stress-eating a bag of chips, a sandwich, and two ice cream push-ups in less than 15 minutes.
“Yeah.. hi, mom. It’s me, Matty. Listen, I just wanted to tell you and dad that I made it to Florida all right. Hopefully I’ll make it to Port Problems before the van breaks down. It’s really acting up. It’s uh… bad. And hey, I guess I have another reason to call you and stuff…. see I, uh…. tried to talk to you and dad about it when I was home this summer…. and uh…. I couldn’t talk about it and uh….yeah, so Robin and I had this thing, right? A promise. I promised myself I wouldn’t enter Florida unless I told you. And uh… well…. here goes…. well, I’m you know…. GAY and um… I just thought you should know. Well, I mean, my sisters know… well, most of them, and my coworkers know… and you know, everyone’s cool with it and I was thinking my parents really should know and stuff… so I guess I’m sorry for not telling you about it earlier but-“
“BEEP! You have fifteen seconds remaining.” Fuck.
“Oh, uh… I have fifteen seconds remaining. Listen, I don’t mind if you take your time before calling me again and tell dad-or-I-will-tell-dad-or-whatever-just-let-me-know-and-stuff-and”
“BEEP!” it cut me off.
I stood for quite some time, staring at my phone. Did I really just do that? Is it really over? I’m done? Am I out? I did the only thing I could do- started giggling nervously.
As I slowly walked into the gas station to start buying my post-outing-myself-stress-relief food, it dawned on me---- a horrible fact.
I just left a ticking bomb on my own mother’s voice mail at work. She will come in ready to work tomorrow morning, and be greeted with the fact that her son is gay.
Oh my God.
That’s really not a good start to her day.
I went numb.
I continued to feel this numbness as I climbed back into the van to eat.
Tick... tick… tick… tick… tick… the noisy attention-seeking dashboard clock reminded me of what was now inevitable. Tick tick tick tick tick tick-tick-tick-tick-tick!!
And I sat… chewing like a dumb cow… wide eyed, staring up at the taunting clock, not knowing what else to do but let out a nervous giggle every now and then. It was perhaps then that I had the most intelligent thought of the night-
‘Not good, Matty… definitely not good’
‘Time is ending….. time is about to start…. time is counting down… my entire life is about to change, and I have no way of stopping it. It’s all about the timing, you see. It is an inevitable disaster approaching me. Fuck. Hell. Fuck and hell. Fuck, hell and damnit. Why can’t I just turn this stupid van around and make this all stop???’
These are the crazy thoughts I was having, as I roared down the dark freeway toward the Florida border in my Volkswagen van three weeks ago. It was three in the morning, and I was racing against time to get my van back into Florida and to the small Atlantic coastal town of Port Problem.
I had a lot on my mind. How couldn’t I?
The Aquarius was starting it again- the stalling out. I watched the needle fall from 70 to 55, as the entire van began shaking due to the engine shitting out, misfiring, coughing, and slowly grabbing back a hold of itself. Was I really going to get back to Port Problem? The van had made it thousands of miles, and four break-downs so far. This upcoming one, however, seemed a bit bigger than the rest.
Then, of course, came the money issue- which is the harsh fact that I just didn’t have any. Driving around the entire U.S. in two months had drained my sad little checking account dry. How was I to live with no money when I returned home?
Next in my mental line of issues, was my friend Robin. Time was moving in upon our friendship, dooming us to just a few days before her departure from my life. Would she be all right? Would she like her new home in Virginia? Who would look after her?
But perhaps the biggest mind-teaser of all, was words Robin had said to me, just a month or two prior to this night. “Make it a promise, Matty. Before you enter Florida, you MUST call your parents and tell them.. That way, you’ll be done with your trip, and you can start up your life with no more secrets. Make it a rule! No entering Florida without that phone call!”
So now I sat wide-eyed, deliriously tired and overly stressed, watching the second hand tick excitedly around the clock, counting down the minutes until I was to make a life-changing phone call to North Dakota.
Please understand… I’m not crazy. Really! I swear! But that night, I was determined to keep this promise to Robin, and more importantly to myself and my parents. It had to be right then, and right there, no questions asked. A promise kept.
As I steered my van over into an exit off I-10, I was remembering- remembering the last year and a half when I was finally getting along with my parents, and come to know them as friends. As I pulled into and parked in the lot of a tacky, neon-signed gas station, I was contemplating- contemplating how many months it would take them to get over this news. And as I was walking around that gas station to an unlit forested area in the back and pulling out my phone, I was hoping- hoping someday they would forgive me for what I was about to do.
Upon opening my phone, I saw the time. It was almost four a.m.
“What are you thinking?” I saw aloud to myself. “You can’t call them now. You can’t just wake them up to talk this late. That’s nuts.”
In hindsight, mind you…. I fully realize now calling them directly at 4 in the morning would’ve been a better idea than what I instead decided to do.
“Hmmm…” my worn out mind decided. “I’ll just call and leave a message for them…. Oh, damnit, I can’t call their mobile phones. That might wake them up as well…. Fuck…. Oh, I know…. I could call mom’s work, and leave her a voice message there.”
Again, I tell you… knowing what I know now…. I completely understand that this was a very stupid thing for me to do. Downright dumb. Reckless. Inexcusable.
My mother’s voice came over my mobile, announcing that she’s away from her desk. I waited for the beep, and then started talking- telling her the secret- which would see me stress-eating a bag of chips, a sandwich, and two ice cream push-ups in less than 15 minutes.
“Yeah.. hi, mom. It’s me, Matty. Listen, I just wanted to tell you and dad that I made it to Florida all right. Hopefully I’ll make it to Port Problems before the van breaks down. It’s really acting up. It’s uh… bad. And hey, I guess I have another reason to call you and stuff…. see I, uh…. tried to talk to you and dad about it when I was home this summer…. and uh…. I couldn’t talk about it and uh….yeah, so Robin and I had this thing, right? A promise. I promised myself I wouldn’t enter Florida unless I told you. And uh… well…. here goes…. well, I’m you know…. GAY and um… I just thought you should know. Well, I mean, my sisters know… well, most of them, and my coworkers know… and you know, everyone’s cool with it and I was thinking my parents really should know and stuff… so I guess I’m sorry for not telling you about it earlier but-“
“BEEP! You have fifteen seconds remaining.” Fuck.
“Oh, uh… I have fifteen seconds remaining. Listen, I don’t mind if you take your time before calling me again and tell dad-or-I-will-tell-dad-or-whatever-just-let-me-know-and-stuff-and”
“BEEP!” it cut me off.
I stood for quite some time, staring at my phone. Did I really just do that? Is it really over? I’m done? Am I out? I did the only thing I could do- started giggling nervously.
As I slowly walked into the gas station to start buying my post-outing-myself-stress-relief food, it dawned on me---- a horrible fact.
I just left a ticking bomb on my own mother’s voice mail at work. She will come in ready to work tomorrow morning, and be greeted with the fact that her son is gay.
Oh my God.
That’s really not a good start to her day.
I went numb.
I continued to feel this numbness as I climbed back into the van to eat.
Tick... tick… tick… tick… tick… the noisy attention-seeking dashboard clock reminded me of what was now inevitable. Tick tick tick tick tick tick-tick-tick-tick-tick!!
And I sat… chewing like a dumb cow… wide eyed, staring up at the taunting clock, not knowing what else to do but let out a nervous giggle every now and then. It was perhaps then that I had the most intelligent thought of the night-
‘Not good, Matty… definitely not good’
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