Word: raining
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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...their tradition. Common wisdom has it that they cater to the four- or five-hour peak of an acid trip, and so they did at Springfield. The size and anxiety of the crowd indicated an equally enormous amount of commitment and planning. Thousands stood in line in the rain as early as five o'clock, and many were showing the signs of a "heightened awareness" by then. The gentleman to my left, for example, who had shaved half his head and tied what was left of his hair into a ponytail, crooned continuously about the moon melting and the pavement...
Although it may not be apparent, "S" carded a courageous 11 on the redoubtable seventh, a hole replete with a meandering fairway and a menacing water hazard. Reaching the green of the par five eighth was an arduous business, and he found a greenside bunker. After unleashing a frenzied rain of blows, his ball had not budged. "S" suddenly lost the will to go on, so his incomplete scorecard will be preserved for posterity as a noble fragment...
...blue executive had summoned him and that he would arrest us if we didn't quickly disappear. We retreated to Manny's Cockpit Restaurant, with its bicentennial decor, to dry off and plan strategy and punish ourselves with thoughts of condominiums and never-more-than-ten-minutes-of-rain-a-day. Two dozen yards off, Bruce was pumping gas into the Miami-bound Lear jet, and we couldn't look for its pilot without risking a night in the Teterboro jail, if there was one. Things looked bleak...
Finally we paid Manny's check and huddled in front of the airport gate on a muddy strip of grass. The rain rolled off our ponchos and into our sneakers. As executives back-seated in limousines drove past, we would display a hastily-constructed placard (Two Students Want Ride South) and smile, friendly but humble. Most stared ahead, lockjawed; a few were amused; one tapped his chauffeur, rolled down the window, and offered a ride to Indianapolis. Even New Jersey in the rain seemed preferable...
...much room. The policeman smiled. In his sunglasses we could see the dark clouds racing behind us. As the fat blue executive watched from a steamy office window, the policeman offered us a ride to the highway. The Miami-bound Lear jet still sat, sleek and ready, on the rain-slicked pavement...