Escape Into Chris – Entry 18

Frank Caico

Jan 1, 2007 – Chicago, IL

Last night was a hell trip. But a good one, and I am glad it happened.

On New Years Eve in a bar in Naperville, you should have seen the looks that hung on the faces of both sexes. After twelve o’clock, everyone was thoroughly intoxicated and their eyes like burnt out candles, like empty shop windows and the nervy chaotic crowd aswirl elbows bumping elbows, the showy mirth, the condescending glances fell chopping up everyone. Me and my friends, they were drunk but I was not. We tried to have fun. We played crazy fools but I was self conscious as I always am. The empty vacant stares hurt me though very few really cared what I was doing. I swear I could feel the overall crippled spirit of that bar on New Years Eve. Constraint and shallow cupidity – no one loving, just angry lust feeding everywhere. Could I be guilty too? Of wanting “my share of fun?” Women like sirens with bare attractive thighs and indifferent eyes. Cold objects without souls. I drifted in this bar for an hour or so – the weight of people’s judgments on my mind, the weight of unhappiness or greed. Was this where I had chosen to spend my New Years Eve?

Later, my best friend and I driving home – escaping the hellish spectacle of that place – rejoiced. It was 4:30 am when we were on the highway but never had I such good manly company. Never before had I heard my best friend speak so plainly and so true. We talked about how lucky we were to have each other, to live in such a good place and to have jobs and friends and money – grateful. We arrived at our respectful homes and said a prayer for the coming new year.

3 responses to “Escape Into Chris – Entry 18”

  1. he just wrote the exact words I used to feel sometimes when i went out. this is my favorite post so far.

  2. Jules says:

    I’m from Naperville! ironic.. I love this post. simple and true.

  3. Mgbarc says:

    Chris was always so honest, and was able to express his true feelings in real language that made you identify and feel what he was feeling. So many times growing up, I was in this same place. Why are some burdened with the truth of the  insanity of the world, and some are not. How I miss Chris who could always see, and express the REAL picture.

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