My community service adventure

While this blog post is a little late in coming, it's nonetheless warranted.

The Topeka Capital-Journal each year raises money to donate to Junior Achievement, a program to -- you guessed it -- help juniors achieve through showing children how class applies to the real world in a practical way.

Each year, in thanks, Junior Achievement hosts a night of bowling in Topeka for businesses who raise and donate money to the program. And, yours truly, enjoyed a night of copious amounts of alcohol and bowling to support Junior Achievement.

Incidentally, Junior Achievement came to my third or fourth grade class (details are sketchy because that was a long time ago) and showed us the importance of working together as a team on an assembly line type project to accomplish our goal quicker and easier (we built pens in teams, how cool is that?).

The Capital-Journal had enough people at Gage Center to fill four lanes. It was cool to see a lot of local businesses and organizations getting together in support of such a great program. The TPD were their, Security Benefit, etc. It is a nice community effort.

But I must say, nothing beats the feeling of racking yourself while bowling in front of the managing editor of  a publication while trying to pull off a move affectionately termed 'the finisher.'

A proud moment? Not necessarily. A memorable one? Yes.

As is Junior Achievement's long-time-ago effect on me.

Battle between news mediums

Four college students were driving back to Topeka on Saturday afternoon from a journalism conference in Kansas City. They were traveling west on I-70 when they happened to notice a KSNT news van in the right lane.

Everyone knew what must be done.

The blue Ford Focus switched to the left lane and began gaining ground on the news van. The person in the back, left hand seat prepared himself. The Focus pulled alongside the news van and a bare ass waved at the driver while the Focus driver blared on the horn. The driver of the news van, while not recognizable, had a disgustedly perplexed look on his face as he stopped sipping from his Sonic cup.

Hysterical laughter ensued as the throttle was matted and the car zoomed off into a brighter future than that of local television news.

Innocence

"Mommy, that's a pee pee," he says as he points at the artwork.

"No son, that's an umbilical chord."

Ah, the innocence of childhood.

The gun

They're all lined up.

The silence about the air is absolute as they all stare at the guy with the gun. He stares at each one of them and asks if they're ready.

Everyone tenses as he points the gun.

A couple of premature shrieks escape the innocent bystanders. The gun fires and everyone takes off running to screams.

Who doesn't love a good cross country race?

Goin for a cruise

The drunken screaming is everywhere.

Not bad screaming, but fun screaming, happy screaming. Everyone is in a drunken state of bliss, even as two cars almost collide in the parking lot.

One guy is screaming because his friends are trying to leave him as he is trying to climb into the moving car with his pants still down from peeing on the car.

Another is screaming at the guy who almost hit him, or who he almost it. It's hard to tell.

A cruiser is sitting at the end of the parking lot, quietly looking for trouble.

Funny how it is only barely past 11 at night.

The cracks

He walked into Subway, unshaven and unkempt.

Those already in line payed no attention as he seemed confused and not all there. He walked over to look at the rack of chips and then to the checkout counter to mumble a couple of words before shuffling back out into the evening air.

The people behind the counter weren't nonplussed as this wasn't the first time someone like that had come in.

The sandwich line kept moving.

The customer line kept moving.

Somewhere, another one slipped through the cracks.

The night will only know

The guy showed up late and had no idea what he'd gotten himself into.

People are doing shots, random people are makin out on the couch and there's lots of drunken loudness, nothin new there.

But it doesn't take long for the drunken loudness to turn into lots of screaming and crying.

And before he knows it, he's running down the street with a buddy at almost midnight in street clothes trying to find someone.

How did this happen?

People are in the streets crying, cars are driving around searching with the runners.

How did this happen?

Who knows how much time later, order has been marginally restored as cigars are passed around to relax, but does anyone truly know what happened?

Seriously.

Some things the night will only know.