All eyes were on the eastern horizon, for some reason, and it was the perfect opportunity for someone like me to indulge in a little mischief. Pick the pockets of those hapless souls, perhaps... easy to do since not a one of them was looking my way. No, every single one of them had their eyes focused to the east, waiting for something. I had no idea what it was and I didn't care. I had my own problems, had my own crises to deal with, and it wasn't going to help things one bit to get involved in this.
"There it is!" somebody yelled. A few people pointed skyward, and any heads that weren't already swung to that inclination made the adjustment.
"I can't see it. Can't see a damn thing," muttered an older gentleman in front of me. I scanned the skies for a brief moment, thinking that I might see whatever it was and let him know where to look, or what to look for -- I still had no idea what this was all about -- but all I could see was the sky, a few meandering clouds, and nothing else. Somewhere, somebody in the crowd started strumming a guitar, started to sing "This Land Is Your Land."
Hippies, no doubt. Throwbacks to a time when people actually sang folks songs, actually knew who Woodie Guthrie was. I gave up my momentary sky scan, bailed on the old guy, and walked north, along the wall of people looking east. I might as well have been inspecting the troops.
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