Friday Afternoon

The sun sets blazingly on this friday afternoon, igniting the glitter embezzled in the walkway outside of the residences. Most people are merely passing through, but a few flock around the benches and planters, awaiting nightfall. There is a light-heartedness about Fridays that puts its people at ease, a shining grin flashes at every which corner and the noises in the air are dappled in giggles and gasps of enthusiasm. Even the sun beats down a little more gentle on a Friday, sending delicate breezes over the backs of young women basking lazily by the poolside this early afternoon. And the boys hop on their longboards and swirl around the walkway, some carrying books or groceries. Almost all of them are wearing any combination of Rayband sunglasses, a backwards hat and a colorful tank. They too, are beaming on this vivid Friday afternoon in San Diego.

Today, the boys couldn't help notice her, dressed in white shorts and a comfortably loose black V-neck. Atop her beachy blonde waves sat a worn, mishapen, straw fedora that oozed a summery aura and accentuated the fact that it is, indeed, Friday once again. Her skin was bronzed from roaming around in her swimsuit all day, refusing to take it off. She had come to visit the boys across the way from her room and treat them to a ceremonious Friday afternoon smoke session. While they were always more than eager to pack her a bowl any day of the week, today, it was her treat.

One of the boys produced an artsy bubbler for her and filled it with water, another fetched her a grinder for the buds. She took off her aviators and began to methodically pack the bowl as they all circled around on the back porch. As they waited, they laughed and shared stories of "thirsty Thursday" and the morning classes that had them just barely nodding off. But the tempo of their conversation slowed just a bit as she flicked her lighter and lowered it into the bowl. She drew up a deep breath and let the smoke seep out of her mouth like an eerie ghost. One of the boys payed close attention to the cupid's bow shape of her parted lips as she exhaled, adoring their sweet rosiness and the milky marijuana that passed through them.

She jolted suddenly before falling into a violent coughing fit and folding herself in half in her chair. She rumbled her feet to regain composure, pounded her chest with her fist and handed off the bubbler to the one on her left. She cracked a smile amidst her fit, inviting them to laugh at her and slap her on the back like a brother. Of course, they all hacked and coughed when they took a hit. The piece circled around at a lazy pace but it didn't take long for each of them to rise up like released balloons into a hazy cloud in which they pleasantly floated. 

There was a humid sweetness about the air whenever they smoked, so that when it was a particularly warm afternoon, they couldn't help but feel as if they were off far away in a tropical paradise. Relaxing outside under  the shady eaves on this bright day heightened this imaginative notion. One felt Hawaii. The girl felt a Cubano flavor from her elevated vista. One swayed breezily in Jamaica while another traveled so far as South Africa for its mediterranean likeness to San Diego. Friday afternoon is paradiso. But even as they all vacationed their senses to distant destinations, they knew that they were already living in paradise. And for that very reason of living in their own paradise, could they let themselves mingle and experience someone else's paradise even if just through their imaginations.