For a moment there it seemed like all the fighting had stopped. The tattooed punkers weren’t trying to start trouble with the burned-out hippies. The drunken workin’ man wasn’t looking to kick the shit out of all the obnoxious snowboarders, and the skier jocks actually stopped looking over their shoulders to see who was making fun of them. What the hell was going on? There was a calm in the air as everyone seemed to share in the belief that we all belonged here and we’re all mysteriously a part of something greater than we couldunderstand.
I was confused with this shift in the social climate and took another swill of my PBR in hopes that everything would soon return to normal. It’s puzzling to see folks harmonizing for no particular reason. I mean, I can see if people just momentarily embraced one another’s humanity due to some tragedy or global achievement, or even the World Series for f-k’s sake, but it was just your average, overcast afternoon in Oregon. I reflected momentarily and took another drink from my tall boy. Then out of nowhere the juke box started blasting some Bad Religion song (or was it Lynyrd Skynyrd? I don’t know and not important) and everyone seemed to snap out of it. It’s like they regained consciousness and suddenly went back to being themselves.
You see, just as quickly as it came, 4:20 was over. It was now 4:21 and the snowboarders could continue to act cool. The tattooed punkers could start yelling again and pretending they don’t give a f-k. The hippies never really changed at all, and the skiers went back to telling their lies. The working man reclaimed his position at the bar telling you why Bill Clinton sucks, and I had a quiet sense of peace overtake me.
Oregon-a great place to visit, and an even better place to live.