-

me: what do you think?

anne: whoah. bit snug around the buns.

-

this city is rank with addiction.

at night, i see the neon signs gleaming from glass windows. they reflect wetly on the ground, representing the search that so many embark on, the search from which so few return. the search for peace, and wholeness, and an identity. Northface, the signs read, and Teva, the blue and yellow neon twisting and reflecting ostentatiously against the stacked displays of trekking poles and hiking boots. they're closed for the night, but the lost still stop and stare at their weekend day pack sale. i see them huddled on street corners downtown, eerily illuminated by their glow.

nor is this confined to the night. in broad daylight, people on the street sip surreptitiously from camelbacks lashed to their shoulders. why do they need camelbacks, you ask? they're only walking a few blocks. but try explaining that to an addict. also try talking them out of wearing hiking boots just to get their mail from the office downstairs. i need to break these in, they will tell you. but don't be fooled.

it only seems to worsen as time wears on. people that i know for a fact to be living on minimum wage slap down their credit cards on slick counters, demanding one more climbing harness. the clerk raises an eyebrow and considers cutting them off, but they say, go on, i really need this today. they slide over food stamp cards at the supermarket, avoiding eye contact while their fellow shoppers scan their organic pita chips and free-range eggs, a full $.79 pricier than the store-brand kind. they know they're being judged, but they decided long ago that a life without hummus is a life not worth living.

i want to ask them, why aren't you home, with your flat-screen t.v. and papasan chair? they miss you. why do you instead run in circles on a track for hours, going nowhere, with no one chasing you? but they are already gone, and i'm too out of shape to catch them. plus their running shoes are far superior to mine.

there is nothing left to do but watch and wait. to be there for them when they finally collapse at my feet and tearfully confess that the madness has to stop, before they lose all they hold dear. i will hand them a bag of regular doritos and offer to take their cross-country skis off their hands. it's what a real friend would do.