Outside of the yogurt shop on Saturday evening, we watched a man wearing shades and reading with a flashlight as the sky was turning to darkness.
The raucous Heather wanted to belt out the Corey Hart early 80s hit:
I wear my sunglasses at night
So I can, so I can
Forget my name while you collect your claim
And I wear my sunglasses at night
So I can, so I can
See the light that’s right before my eyes
Imagine a Friday night dance with some sort of an overworked theme playing out in a room protected by a high ratio of chaperones. Picture the wall of adolescent boys nearly lined up on their side of the gym (or auditorium) hiding behind their cool sunglasses and singing along to their anthem. This is approximately when I learned that I probably shouldn’t dance — or sing.
