|Birds Do It.|
The alarm is a not-so-subtle reminder that the party is officially over. A kick between the legs to knock you back into reality. I was 60 seconds away from starting my first day back to work after a weekend getaway. Any second I thought. And there it was - the high pitched beeping that can make your ears bleed and shatter all of the happiness remaining from the previous day. All gone now. The day has actually started.
I slowly climb out of bed as if wounded in battle. Scratch my head, wipe my eyes, and offer a few expletives aloud to welcome the day. A shower, a shave, and a good shit slowly bring the morning to whatever normalcy there will be on such a day. All packed now and ready to head out to the train station. The abominable subway station.
|Bees Do It.|
My eyes roll back into my head in a deep trance-like state. My mind carries me back a few years to when I visited Rio de Janiero for Carnival. The drums. The relentless pounding of the skins, guiding me into a frenzy, inspiring my spirit to fly from my body, and allowing my mind to keep step with my feet. I'm dancing to the beat of the drums and have absolutely no say in the matter. I'm nearly possessed. I'm completely caught up in celebration. I'm in Rio for Carnaval.
|Brazilians Do It!|
After eight long hours in the office, the work day is officially over. Time to head back home. Despite my wide open ears, the only sounds I hear in the subway station are trains rolling over the tracks. No drums to be found. The ride back home is silent and I'm somewhat depressed. I get home, take a shower, and settle onto my couch. Light a few candles and immediately feel the breeze from the ocean. I close my eyes and press rewind on my mental videocam. Slowly but surely, the mental image takes shape. Masses of people dancing and chanting in the streets to the sound of the drums. Mind, body, and soul free to take flight. Not a bad day at all.
Louis Skip Gonzalez is a travel writer and drunken gypsy. (Is that phrase redundant? I'm just asking.) He grew up in Brooklyn and now works for Sony Music in New York City. His friends call him Hopeless Sinner Skip, but that isn't true, since his heart is always filled with the hope of finding new ways to sin. As we romantics know, hope springs eternal in the human breast - and for the human breast.