I’ve spent lots of time in the country near Pembroke Pines in the middle of the night. A soda machine at cemetery ate my dollar at 2am. Snaps.
Other nighttime adventures include creepy houses in suburbia (you know who you are) and warehouse districts (with dog chases, seriously) Long, Long, midnight walks and discussions at FIU, Gables, and Little Havana.
Oh, and bad movies.
Oh, and impromptu parties on the expressway because it was shut down for a hour due to a rather nasty accident.
I sat in Allen Hall until I had finished the third chapter of John Grisham’s “The King of Torts”. I was tired and the cleaning ladies’ music was too loud anyway.
I got up and tossed the empty, grease-stained fry pouch and burger box in the Donald’s bag and walked towards the stairs. “Tttrash?” asked one of the cleaning ladies. Her puffy blond hair was tied back in a long ponytail.
I smiled as I turned towards her cart. Another lady came out of the classroom and stood behind the cart. Both offered heavily accented “hi’s” as I approached.
“There?” I asked and motioned with the bag. The second lady, a neck-less woman wearing bright red lipstick, nodded and pointed to the sack hanging off of the cart. She smiled as I tossed my grease sack into the indicated garbage bag. “Have a goodnight,” I said, hoping my smile would make up for my language deficiency.
The cleaning ladies gave me two toothy smiles and heavily accented “byes!” as I went down stairwell. I walked back to my car to get my hat, then back to my dorm.