You really can't make this stuff up. I started out midway past six AM for my Sunday Long Run. Headed down a vacant street - the one with the stores all closed up awaiting ten AM. Low about one mile in, I spotted a flock of mods (you know, youths dress like they live in the 80s mixed up with hairstyles from the 60s - moptops). Six or a half dozen clogging up the sidewalk like they own it, weaving - perhaps drunk.
So, I slunk out to the street - no cars there anyway and slip back on my usual path just ahead of the boisterous group. And I hear hoots and shouts - and quite surprisingly, they encourage one of their flock to tag along for about two blocks. I look back. One tall, shaggy blonde kid with a fez (yes, a fez) comes sauntering up. I waive him up. This is our conversation:
Me - What's up?
- We've been up all night. Fez
Me - Oh?
- Been snorting coke all night. I don't usually do that, but...(gasp for air) Fez
Me - Oh.
- You get a lot of sleep last night? Fez
Me - well, the kids woke us up about twice last night.
- How many you got? Fez
Me - Two.
- Oh. Fez
Me - I'm going for an hour or hour and a half. Glad to have your company. Don't get too many takers this early. How far you going?
- Oh. To the corner and then slowly make my way back. Fez
Me - (by that time, we had made it to the corner) See ya later (shaking his hand - it was limp, no calluses - like a man of leisure).
- stops, wheezes over, hands onto his knees. Fez