Per Skovkjær Sand

Journalist med speciale i fortællinger

Float – what happens when school stops and life begins

The last week I have have been floating. It is a special feeling that I usually get after finishing one of the small chapters that makes out life. I had my last day at school on wednesday almost two weeks ago. Thursday we had the first party – or actually the last one of its kind. I wrote this blog post about that.

Friday we had a gala. We had whiskey and danced. The whole party was kind of like a last dance. Everybody was still there. But not for long. I ended up twisting on a table. I should not have done that. The bouncer twisted my arm on my back and kicked me out. I think he liked his job very much.

Saturday we we barbecued at my place. We ended up on the kitchen floor with a guitar singing Eddie Vedder at the top of our lungs. We slept five people in my room that night. The next morning I went to an art fair with Christopher and Clothilde, and we stood at the dock of the bay smoking a cigarette talking about wild movie projects and ways to declare love.

That night we went to the Castro Theatre watching Pirates of the Caribbean. The interesting part was actually after the movie, when we went to a little bar in the Castro. The bartender had been the latin america adviser to the major of San Francisco for six years. But then the major changed, and now he was a bartender in the Castro. A very friendly and funny bartender. The next day he was going to Las Vegas on his first vacation in two years.

“I think I’m gonna hire a hooker with a big old penis,” he said and laughed.

He gave us tequila, and I realized that I have been drinking bad tequila all my life.

Monday. Q-bar. $ 1 drinks. Perfect beats. Most people was still there. It was amazing. One more party, like an unexpected gift. I went to the bar, got a gin and tonic, started feeling the rhythm. Massoud was dancing, Bisi was dancing, I started dancing – slowly – Lauren was dancing, everybody was dancing. I talked to Christopher. The music was perfect. It was hot. I made ski jump with Linda. We got down in the starting position (like I have seen it so many New Years days at Peter’s place as a child), we pushed and slid – and jumped – and flew over imaginary fields of white snow before landing. Shaky, but in control.

We ran down the streets, I jumped over a trash can or some kind of metal thing and jumped on a random bus and got of at a random stop. I walked up the hills and I didn’t mind.

Søs and Katrine arrived Wednesday night. I walked down Taylor watching my phone. I looked up, and there they were. Smiling. We said “Hej” and hugged.

We had the best sangria at Cha Cha Cha in the Haight. Red wine, white wine, apples and orange. Thats it. In the middle of the dinner Katrine and Søs switched plates. They told me about their adventures in San Diego, their american friends, and a buss full of people, that will go 11,000 miles exploring the spirit of festivals.

We went to Dolores Park. We walked slowly and were surprised, when we looked at the clock. But it did not matter. Time was floating – just like us.

We felt the wind on top of Twin Peaks and leaned in to it. The city was changing as the lights faded and new artificial small lights ignited like golden and read fire flies painting the pattern of the city underneath us. Dramatic skies crossed the bleeding sunset as we ran up the hill eager to reach the top and be blown away.

We went to a carnival that was over long time ago. On 24th Street in the Mission, we met up with Christian, Clothilde, Luise, Wera and Leoni. The rain poured down outside the diner where we sat eating pies and burritos and burger and chicken cilantro soup. We had our own little warm bubble, and only when somebody opened the door, we felt the cool and rainy air.

That night we danced, danced, danced. Wera, Leoni and Luise was there as well. We all hugged and said goodbye. Søs and Katrine grabbed a taxi to my place. I stood for a little while at the sidewalk. Then I jumped in to a cab. I saw the lights of San Francisco drifting by the window on the way to the airport and my 7 am flight to New York and I thought to myself, that this is how you should always leave a city.


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