On the way home from the ballpark

Anglers lost, 7-2.  I left at the top of the sixth, with Harwich up 6-zip, driven out of there by the mosquitos.

Heading up Main Street, I realized that I was following those four high school guys in their I (heart) T-shirts.  At first I assumed they'd been at the game too, but it quickly dawned on me that they hadn't been in front of me for the first block up from the ballpark.  They'd appeared up ahead in a moment when I was looking somewhere else, as if they'd just stepped out of one of the shops along here or...as if they'd just crossed over from the other side of the street.  When I considered that possibility I became convinced that I had in fact seen them out of the corner of my eye doing just that.  Well, not them.  Those four brand new white T-shirts which, now that the sun had set, shone like four human-shaped containers of moonlight.  And, I was sure, they'd been coming the other direction.

They hadn't been at the game, I decided.  For the last hour or so they'd been back here in town.  And I wouldn't have thought anything about that except that there was another group of high school students, boys and girls, sitting on the curb up ahead and when the four approached them one of the girls cried out, "I love your T-Shirts...again!"

And there was something about her "again" that implied more this was more than the second time she'd admired their shirts tonight, more than the second time she'd done so in the last little while, in fact.

The guys walked by without acknowledging her or responding to the laughter of her friends or to one of the guys with her shouting out, "Hey, are you all gay?"

They continued up the street, side by side---shoulder to shoulder, actually, which is how I'd first seen them---and people coming this direction had to step out of their way because they didn't ever break step.  This was a march.  A slow, amiable, modest one, but still a march.

They were half a block or so ahead of me most of the way through town but I caught up with them out in front of the gift shop near where we're staying.  There's an intersection and a crosswalk there and the guys stopped to talk over their next move.

"Which way, gents?" said one.

"Back that way again, I guess," said another.

And they stepped out into the crosswalk, marched over to the other side of the street, and started back down the other way.

I thought of chasing after them to ask what exactly they were doing, but I knew there was pie at home and Uncle Merlin and the blonde were waiting for me and when it comes to pie neither one of them is the most patient of guardians.

But I'd still like to know.

What do you think they were up to?  A stunt?  A lost bet?  An initiation?  A protest?  A promotion?  A political statement?  Or did they just want to say what their T-Shirts were saying, that they (heart) their gay friends and relations?

Comments

[Apostate]

Very odd! You should've asked. Lance, Lance. The mystery of the shirts vs. the pie? Heavens.

And where's a photo? They sound hot.

[Lance]

Apostate, it was an excellent pie.

My camera died. I have to rely on my cell phone camera and that doesn't take good pictures on the fly. I'm shopping for a replacement today. Then I'll go out tonight to see if they're still on the march.