The Idle Time of a VIP [repost]

It wasn't just another manic Monday. It was 6/9. And when the night came, there was going to be an Industry Party like no other. For me, this meant going out on the town with the groovy crew of Dub's Daily Dose...Letting loose...Meeting new people...and helping a member of the Community.

In reality, 6/9 had a Grander Purpose. The "party", sponsored by Spirits Vendors and Local Businesses, was really a fund-raising event to uplift and benefit a local bartender in a damn tight spot. [Read about it here.]

When I woke that morning, I had new meaning to my life. I knew that, come the time of the setting sun...I would dance...drink...aide humanity--and all at the same time!

Philanthropy at its most excellent.

Most of my day was on auto-pilot. A little bit of contract work (I work from home), a few phone calls (I needed a Designated Driver), and a smattering of idle preparation...You see, up until this particular Monday, I had long hair, like Samson or one of the Mmm-bop Kids. My hair was my history and my strength.

But it had to go. I needed to be set free.

As the day began to settle into darker light, and I completed my busy work the bug of spontaneity bit me, and before I knew it I was shaving my head in front of a Camera. With only an hour until the Party, I was either committing a brilliant act, or making a bad decision.

But I wasn't alone on the quest to free my mind. My Brother (from another Mother) held to my head all manner of devices to loosen my locks onto the cold floor of the garage. Weed whacker, saw, pruning shears, scissors...and, lastly, grooming clippers were employed to conquer the mane of gold that I'd worn for nearly two (2) years.

The process of purification was mostly harmless. There were no scars...only a buzzed, "Space Monkey" dome. After I'd cleaned the concrete of my wavy memories, and said goodbye to my Brother, I trimmed and cleaned up the rough edges around my ears and any stray hairs, and rinsed my self off in the shower. As the wet stream ran freely in its chaos over the now sleek surface of my scalp, I suddenly thought of two things: I was now more susceptible to the abuse of the Sun and I was once more attractive to the Opposite Sex.

My outfit was waiting for me to stop gawking at the mirror, dry off, and hustle out the door. (It was nearing eight o' clock, and my ride was waiting.) As I dressed to impress, I spoke out loud (to my self): 'Look out, Party People, this man might be Vincible, but you are not ready for his Wit and Ability'!

In that moment, I knew I was shining brighter than the hot Star in our Sky.

And my DD said, "We need to go"!
Pop. Fizzle. Grandeur gone. And we were off...

As we pull up to Dub's, to meet with the rest of the "troops", the setting Sun was low enough to appear as though it was behind the Bar.

I smiled to my self.
Poetic justice was served.