It was a surprisingly chaotic scene for being so relatively early in the afternoon. The sun was out and cars were swerving by. It smelled like the end of fall. The air was crisp and cool in spite of how bright and clear it was outside. And the trees were clutching on to their last few golden leaves that had, for the most part, taken up the ground just below them. Floating like ghosts with every passing car. And there I stood in the middle of it all. A short throw away from probably the busiest intersection in North Eugene, I was overwhelmed by the rush of LTD buses and cars coming within only an inch or two of slamming into them. Just to my immediate left sat two young girls, probably no older than sixteen or seventeen sharing a laugh about their days. “I can’t believe Crystal actually did that right in the middle of the hall.” I hadn’t been privy to the conversation that lead up to that point but I can only imagine what it was that Crystal had done. Did she cry? Did she lose it in front of the whole school, or hallway? Was there an assault involved and was anybody injured? All I could do was wonder and move on to the next conversation. I had spotted three young and rather dark looking teenagers tempt fate as they crossed the intersection with little concern for the large garbage truck that barreled towards them. Sure, they looked interesting. A lot more so than the older couple who appeared to have been up all night doing some sort of intoxicant or the other. So, using my best stealth skills I inched my way behind the large glistening map of the Eugene Springfield Metro area and sat behind them on the two sided bench where two of them sat with their back to me and another remained standing. Judging from the jubilation and smiles he was apparently in the middle of a very engaging, and probably exaggerated story about an argument he had had with his sister that morning. “She is such a bitch and she does this stuff on (expletive) purpose. Just to get my parents to let her do whatever the (expletive) she wants. I (expletive) hate her.” He takes a moment to pause for the approaching bus before he turns back around and emphasizes his point. “(Expletive) her. I’m going to (expletive) in her cheerios.” As soon as he drops this last line I can’t help but let out a little bit of a chuckle and, by doing so, almost lose my cover. I figure I should probably move on and so I find a spot across the parking lot and notice the sea of students that are creeping this direction. School’s definitely out. Time to go home. Not a bad idea I say to myself as I begin the short walk home.