It’s kind of a drab atmosphere. There’s not even a decent game on T.V. The cold air has set in.
This means slow days, long nights and a dead vibe in the city that will be reborn in April only to suffocate on itself next November.
It’s poker night here at the Ticket, a sports bar, which means clicking chips, a silent lull in the crowd from stellar concentration and the quiet that comes with such thinking.
I remember this place being livelier, even on a Thursday night. The loudest thing in here is the T.V. where Carolina and Miami are struggling to play football.
If only a fight would break out. That would put a shot of adrenaline into the life-support sustained pulse of this building.
Perhaps two oafs will begin bludgeoning each other with fists and beer bottles.
An argument over a poker game would seem a good enough reason for such an event.
There is a missed ante that would lead to an extreme misunderstanding. They would start arguing about whether the other was a cheat or not. Faces would meet with fists.
Teeth would gnash together from stress induced clenching and fist-induced thrashing. Blood flows really fast if the right connection is made.
No one would dare jump in during this perfect scenario. This sort of explosion is healthy for humans, physically and mentally.
Nothing is more physically draining and mentally taxing than trying to defend yourself in its most raw and animalistic form.
I want to see a fight between any two strangers. I want it to erupt one meter away from me.
I need that kind of insanity to kill the steady monotony that surrounds me daily. Ghandi said to be the change we want to see in the world.
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