Drinking, screaming, laughing, cursing and crying all around the clubhouse. A small child grins viciously as he hurls a foam football against the window along with his hat. He eyes the floor vents, loudly exclaiming that “something is down there” to no one in particular.
So many different faces blending into uniformity. Team colors draped across all manner of bodies. The old, fat and decrepit mingle with the young, hungry and horny, exchanging questionable wisdom and tasteless jokes.
The cougar is on the prowl. The young cubs are unprepared. The silver fox is considerably less successful in his own journey to recapture dormitory thrills.
I sit slightly removed from the scene, alongside my family. We avoid the poisons ruminating behind the counter-top, opting for a glass of what is likely tap water.
We’re here for the show. No matter which one we watch, it’s always a pleasure.