Desperate Young Teens Want It!

I've arrived in Ann Arbor. You'd think heading hundreds of miles northeast would translate into heat relief - it has, but just barely. I just spent 3 hours walking around the University of Michigan campus, and I'm soaked with sweat. It's not the heat, it's the humidity.

I've borrowed Bag's digital camera - during this evening's hike, I explored the campus, took pictures where appropriate, ate some salmon cakes, and headed back to the dorm.

The dorm, by the way, is an old building. The old building on the UMich campus you're picturing? That's precisely what it's like. Ditto the room.

Anyway, campus has been explored. Check. And walking back to the room and its window air conditioning unit, I thought, "Well, I saw the football stadium. What the hell am I going to do tomorrow?" I'm getting tired of thoughts like these.

A very short girl and a taller male stopped me on the walk home. She spoke to me.

"Are you 21?"
"Yeah, don't I look 21?"
"Yeah, you do. Will you buy us a fifth?"
(rolls eyes, looks around)
"A fifth of what?"
"Bacardi Limon."
(sighs)
"Yeah--" (I'm interrupted before I can complete the phrase, "Yeah, the thing about that is...)
"Oh, great! We've been waiting forever to get someone to do this."
"Where is the liquor store?"
"Right around the corner."
"What's going on tonight?"

The boys says something I can't comprehend, not being from the area, but I know the evening is going to be capped off by "hanging out".

"No drinking or driving, that's for sure," the tiny girl says reassuringly.

I walk into the liquor store/market. A fifth of Limon is $8.99.

"Can I help you, sir?"
"In a minute."

I walk around the store, looking at the food. I was carrying the camera and a box of lil' chocolate donuts I'd bought just earlier at the gas station. There is an exit sign near at the back of the store. I walk to it. There's a storeroom and a large gray door. I hate walking through doors like that - I always think and alarm will trigger if I open it, even though that's never actually happened to me.

I walk past the counter and out the front door.

"I decided not to. Bye."

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't afraid of breaking the law. In another state. For no good reason. It was more than that, though. In the end, it wasn't going to make me feel good. In the end, I don't give a shit if those two get fucked up tonight or if they spend a sober evening playing Old Maid.

And $8.99 for a fifth of rum? That's some bullshit.