4am Indy

All of the bars are closed but the neon beer signs remain on as early morning shift workers clean out all the stale alcohol, vomit, and sexual discharge. A battle raged on these streets tonight with anxious weekend party people seek a refuge to over indulge. A kid is selling hot dogs from a cart on the corner, he says there is only one more dog left, as an older man, quite intoxicated, begins to munch the thing down like a starve wolf eating for the first time after the winter season. The roads remain half paved, covered with metal plates, construction time again as the downtown renovation continues. Pizza shop appears to be doing some business, same pizza they served after the show was over tonight, all pizza tastes like cardboard at 3am, but the booze, the fatigue, and starvation make it seem somewhat tolerable, though the food is far from it.

MMA fans still remain outside our hotel in hopes that one of their superhero will materialize out the thick fog of afterhour party nightclub dancefloors, not likely, most of them are either face down in a pile of coke or balls deep in some fight groupie who seeks to have her personal fantasies fulfilled by the fighter of the moment. Everyone has beers, why not me, no one cares to share any, might just have to break into the hotel bar in the lobby and reopen the place, it would be a total windfall for the hotel. Other fans, take pictures with unrecognizable people, trainers, coaches, or some other facets of the machine of violence, these fans know way too much about all these fighters, over obsessive supporters snapping away photos, video, as if the president had just arrived in town, focused on getting some sort of evidence that shall link the two of them together for eternity, a prize to take back to their friends, like a fresh carcass from the hunt. Nothing left to do now but stay up the rest of the morning, take a taxi to the airport, watch people, write, then board, close my eyes and let the overpowering noise of the jet engines lull me to sleep.