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Monday, June 18, 2012

jazzman

Riding home late at night… I heard a saxophone flowing out from a parking garage. I thought for a moment that it was just some sort of canned music – I know of one parking garage that plays music so it wasn’t a completely left-field-thought. But there was a certain quality to this sound that gave me pause, thinking it was live, real. So I arced around on the deserted four-lane road (2+2) to investigate, rode around the gate-arm and started circling up through its floors. The garage was completely empty at this time of night. It reminded me of the days way back when my friends and I used to take skateboards up to the top of parking structures so we could speed down the spiral structures, the “road” surface in those structures always being super smooth and fast.

Up around the fourth floor I found my jazzman. He didn’t seem particularly enthused by my arrival. In fact, I think he was terrified of me. What kind of upstanding citizen would be riding around in the middle of the night on a bicycle in a parking garage stalking saxophone sounds?! To his credit, he kept his tune going without missing a beat. I tried to give him a positive thumbs-up and an enjoying smile but he only eyed me wearily. Oh well, I tried to make contact, and I wasn’t going to butt-in where I wasn’t wanted, so I rode back down the spiral and out into the night. I hope he put it together that I was just digging on his sound.

2 comments:

A Midnight Rider said...

The siren sounds of a saxophone. Beware of the Sirens.

mindful mule said...

Thanks, Midnight. Those sirens can be quite alluring. I almost pulled my old alto out of the closet.