These Things happen in the City of Sin
by Royal Hopper
Driving down a Sin City byway on your way to work to pay the mortgage, because lets face it that’s why most of us work, you see a man legs crossed head down his limp, dull dark hair hanging down over his eyes concealing his face from view.
He sits on the edge of the sidewalk, his thin legs crossed at the feet and those same feet resting on the asphalt of the busy City of Sin road. Occasionally a Sin City commuter will glance at the lone sitter wondering WTF is he doing with his feet on the road and his ass on the edge of the sidewalk but mostly they just move their cars a foot or two to the right and keep moving.
The light changes and the afternoon commuter traffic moves forward you have to move your eyes forward toward the goal of paying your mortgage and away from the forlorn looking sitter.
Who knows why he was sitting there. It could have been a wild party the night before had left his senses a bit dull and he didn’t realize his feet were on the street. He could have been a daredevil of a rebel daring the commuters to hit him.
It could have been that life was so tough he was thinking about ending it all and was trying to work up the courage or it have been he was just to stoned to notice or care. It is the City of Sin after all and these things happen.
I have said this many times driving down a Sin City street is like looking at a cross section of malady and joy that make up the fabric of the human existence. If you actually look you will see a lot and you can tell a lot about a person just by where and how he sits.
Continuing your journey on another street you see a man sitting down on a landscaped boulder amid the landscaped bushes and trees legs crossed staring out at the fake world with a look of forlorn hopelessness. He was on the gaunt side with freshly shorn hair and three days of whiskers.
He wasn’t dirty or ill kept but he had that look of just being done with it all. Of course he may have just had a massive hangover and no pocket money for a Tylenol or another drink. Such as it is this is the City of Sin after all and these things happen.
If you actually look at stuff around you this city is like a sheet of white cheddar rolled in motor oil and honey with a coating of watermelon, dog turd, worn out cardboard signs and miles and miles of neon, concrete and fake vistas. It is chaos and order. Fun and misery. Drunken debauchery and every day paying the mortgage drudgery.
It is a city like any other that wears its nature like a mask boasting of its issues like an over the hill rock star who stills sells out huge arenas but knows he is over the hill and is trying to get some attention _ to get his share of glory while it is still there to be had.
As you near the end of your journey you spy another sitter, a lone woman who looks equally lost and forlorn sitting on a corner near nothing and no one holding her cell phone in one hand her ragged jogging suit stained from the dirt she was sitting on. Beside her a scraggily mutt looking dirty and hungry and on his last canine legs.
The tragic feeling you develop for her and the dog disappears quickly as the phone rings again and when she answers it a man pulls up on a scooter. She waves at him hangs up the cell as the dog begins yapping and goes into a spastic dance of canine welcome as the man gets off his scooter and approaches.
The man offers a small token at the return of his obviously best friend. There woman refuses shakes his hand and smiles as she points at a poster perhaps with a picture of the dog and a phone number. When they part the man feeds the dog a biscuit from his pocket and the woman jogs home.
You smile a small smile at the small brightest that lights up the dar world you live in because this is the City of Sin and these things happen…
Love You Sinners