The limitations are limitless/ they're floating through the air
All kids gravitate towards the snow strewn woods to entertain acts of youthful transgression, like smoking weed and drinking illicitly purchased bottles of gin, procured by a shadowy brother who knows the guy at the convenience mart down the road. That’s just the natural order of things. And so it’s no surprise then, that I’m faced with some such scene while walking McBeans today. Up ahead on the path, I see them before they see me, a phalanx of baggy pants wearing miscreants huddled around one another, exhaling large plumes of smoke into the air. One of them turns and sees me, and they all turn in the opposite direction and start walking. I want to signal out to them, to let them know it’s OK. That I was a teenager once, too. And that it’s “all good.” That we are part of some fraternal brotherhood of messed up-ness, who gravitates towards the woods to do god knows what. I happen to be entertaining the more adult contemporary existential themes of woods dwelling, but it’s cool.



I proceed to walk around, the frozen earth spreading out at my feet, spliced right down the middle by an icy stream. I’m listening to a song on headphones and pretending I’m in some kind of music video. The camera follows me along, with slow contemplative shots. I touch a tree, feel the jagged texture of bark beneath my hand, and then realize that I should climb into the tree, which I do. I reach up to a branch, propelling with my legs, and hoist myself on a limb. McBeans stares up blankly at me from the ground. This is nice, I think to myself. Sitting in a tree, in the frozen forest, with all of the world beneath my feet. This is the kind of thing I should do more often, hanging around in a tree. People would walk by and I’d offer them a prophetic wave, something like that. I am quickly pulled out of my reverie by the phone vibrating in my pocket. Someone would like to speak with me, in the tree in the forest. “Hello?” I say into the phone. The person at the other end erupts into a round of merriment, which is unnerving while sitting in a tree. I look around to make sure I’m not being watched. “—Ryan?” the voice says regaining control. “Yeah, this is Ryan,” I say. “Oh, hey, it’s Kristen from Kelly Services. I just wanted to let you know that we’re still waiting on the background check, so you’re not going to be able to start work tomorrow.” This place really does cover all the angles, I realize. I can’t really say that I blame them, though. I’ve worked with some real weridos, some real class acts. Oh, well: I hope they work it all out.