Stepping Out, Down & Around

Saturday night I traveled a million miles from here. Here being the heavily-wooded river valley where my quintessential Cape Cod is located. I live among the deer, raccoons, 4’ tall spires of purple wild phlox, great blue heron, snow-white egrets, iridescent hummingbirds, bright red cigarette boats, and black Jaguars.
I didn’t realize how small, confined, and “removed” my little part of the world was until that evening, that particular Saturday in early August.
I jumped into his pick-up truck and he blindfolded me. “Trust me.” he said, and I did.
Without eyes to see, my other senses picked up. I felt every bump in the road. The motor had an insignificant ping every other minute; the brakes made a slight whooshing whispery sound. I could smell the soap residue on his skin and when his hand touched mine it was warm, soothing, and electric.
Even though I could not see I could figure out the direction we were traveling…east, north, east, north, then we turned onto a gravel road. I could hear the crunching and the ditches were tossing me up and down in the seat. Thank God I was belted in. For a moment I was frightened. You know about the recent rash of men killing the women they supposedly love? Maybe we were going to some desolate place for nefarious reasons. Nah, this is a good man and I’m not pregnant.
Still there aren’t many gravel roads anywhere near where I live. I was stumped.
I heard him say SSSH to someone when we stopped for a moment. Then we crunched along again, turned left and leap-frogged over some small bumps.
“No peaking.” He said as he unstrapped me from the seat belt, took my hand, and lead me outside. “Stay right there.” I felt a whoosh of air as his body turned and walked away. He returned, made some noise, something I was unsure of, then he picked me up and placed me in a lawn chair, the kind with a footrest, and tucked a pillow under my head, and a blanket up to my neck. As I heard other vechiles crunching gravel, he reached behind my head and removed the blindfold.
We were at an outdoor theater.
It was tremendous! I was staring up at the stars. There was so much sky. I felt like I was inside a snowglobe. It was so open and big that I felt like I might detach from the earth and go flying off into space.
We were in the very last row, all alone, snuggled into lawn chairs, watching the Perseids, a night of shooting stars.
I’m not certain why I haven’t been here before. This is one of the last remaining outdoors in the country. I guess I have been waiting for him, a man who would give me this moment.
As dusk turned into night the sky became inky blue-black with flares of white from the last bit of light backlighting the clouds.
The movie (The Village) started on the gigantic screen, but I was distracted by the scent of Queen Anne’s lace in the air mixed with buttered popcorn. Someone in the distance shot off two mortars of fireworks in the shape of white chrysanthemums, shadowy figures dug into the gravel as they strolled to the concession stand in the middle of the lot. My man rubbed his hands together and placed them over mine to keep me warm (it was in the 60s) and nearly scalded me. He was piping hot!
Even though the speaker was on full blast it sounded kind of echoy, like the whole world could listen if they were very quiet. It added an eerie effect to the movie, a film about people who had removed themselves from the world and created a threat of false monsters in the surrounding area to keep the citizens from venturing out.
At intermission we walked hand-in-hand to the concession stand. (Those crazy dancing 50s-style hot dogs and Raisinets made us hungry!) Inside there was a weird and wonderful mix of people…teenage lovers still flushed pink from sexual adventures, young married people with kids in tow, a couple in Harley leathers, a beautiful black girl in a white lace dress smooching a pale chubby guy with lots of tattoos, several teenage boys in black t-shirts playing video games, a middle-aged man licking his lips and leering at every woman in the place, a little blonde-haired girl picking her spilled popcorn off the concrete floor, hordes of people in line for candy and popcorn, and a line of women waiting for the restroom that snaked out of the building and around the back. When I finally got in to pee, I was met by a striking Latin woman who grimace at me with an expression that said she would shiv me if I didn’t look away…now.
Snuggled back in our chairs with the second movie ready to begin, one of the cars parked ahead of us had the brake lights on, bright red glaring to the left of the screen. My man when and asked the fellow to please take his foot off the brake.
The sky was flashing lightening now, not big icy white bolts, more like a light show happening behind a layer of deep purple clouds, a pinkish white flare to the north, them the west, dancing lights.
As Bourne Identity started so did the raindrops.
We quickly packed up and quietly inched out of the lot.
What a splendid night. Give me a man with a pick-up every time. They give a girl experiences she never even dreamed of…earthy and astral, RealLife.