Hobo Hunting 1

On my top things to do, there is a phrase that not many would understand.  It's actually much simpler than it tends to be made.  Two Sundays ago I decided my artistic ideas needed a little jolt, so Sarah and I set out to explore.  We had in mind an abandoned rendering plant in Columbus which neither of us had yet to visit.  I drove us down, but upon arriving where we suspected the plant to be, we could not find it.  There were bulldozers and mounds of dirt obstructing most of our view.  I turned into an interesting looking parking lot.  Feeling disappointed when we had still not the rendering plant, I was ready to turn around and head for home.  Sarah suddenly hopped out of my car and ran over to a fence.  She ran back and told me to park.  I pulled into the grass and parked behind the nearest building, trying to hide my fence from view of anyone who might be patrolling the lots.  Walking over to the fence, both of us this time, sliding through the break Sarah had found, not knowing it yet, our adventure had begun.

 

Behind the fence and shrubbery stood about a dozen brick houses with windows completely boarded up from the outside of the complexes.  Vines grew over doors and grass sprang up between our knees.  Sarah and I turned to each other, our faces mirroring one another with a look only we understood.  Our look said a million things through just two faces.  But mostly, our look said "explore".

 

The first house we walked up to was locked tightly.  We pulled and pried and shoved and it remained static.  This was also true for the 2nd house.  And the third.  And the fourth.  And so on.  Spiders spun around doorknobs and in-between windows and their boards.

 

Eventually, I spotted something in my peripheral.  It was an un-boarded window.  Finally! Our persistence had paid off.  There were no stoned webbed within the thick grass, but nearby was a pile of old wood.  I grabbed a sturdy looking piece, hoping it would be enough to break the naked glass.  Sarah wandered off and I started my backswing.

Pause.

If you have never broken in somewhere before I must explain this feeling to you.  It's quite a childish feeling, the sensation that you could very well get caught in the act.  Although typically the sensation is very illogical, it inhibits many from the crime that I was about to commit.  Although the buildings clearly had no electricity running through them for many years, and the surrounding area was completely dead, and it was a Sunday morning... I was near paralyzed by the fact that an alarm could chime to life, or that a police car might swing around the corner at any second.  Note that I said "NEAR paralyzed".

Play.