I was running all over the place.
There were these soccer fields, and I was running by a parking garage, thinking about someone.
There might've been a crappy electronic punk rock band involved.
And a concert with rafters that I was swinging around on (fun!).
Anyway, I was heading back.
The guy sitting in the booth followed me with his eyes as I ran back past the entrance of the parking garage.
I heard Jumbo playing loudly.
It was coming from our old house in Platteville.
I walked down to the basement on a fire escape stairway and went in.
Found WBen in there.
He looked at me, smiled and nodded as if to say "Let's ROCK!"
I proceeded to turn off the lights, as raving is so much more fun in the dark. Ben was looking for a place to plug in his strobelights.
Then he stopped, pointed up the stairs and told me to look.
Our old landlord was up there, and he didn't look too happy about us being in the house again.
We started running, jumping over furniture, railings, and lava-filled crevices.
We ran out the back door, into a field, and split up.
I was running towards home through the woods.
Landlord would never find me there.

As I was about to cross John Nolen drive on the way to work this morning, a lady crossing the other way nearly got run over by a car. Apparently our light had turned green, but the driver thought she could sneak through her own red light, anyway. Later a fellow biker nearly crashed into me doing the same thing I was doing when I broke my finger - riding on the wrong side of the path. And he was wearing fancy biking clothes.

Let that be a lesson to you, kids. Watch the other traffic, *then* pay attention to lights and conventions.