You'd think people would learn.

Learn from their parents, experience, anything.

But generally, we don't.

Shige' and I used to have a running dialog on why people never learn from their parents, thus preventing humanity from progressing upwards spiritually. It seems like eventually people would learn to keep their heads out of the gutter, their feet off the path of least resistance, but no one ever does. Me especially.

Time after time, people have predicted that at last mankind had learned its lesson, it was going to be all up, up, up from here.

Futurism springs to mind.

It's like those old Popular Science newsreels: America wins the war thanks to gadgets! Domestic bliss for sale at Sear, starting now!

It's like the "old" saying goes: If we put a man on the moon, why can't we purify the human soul?

Sir David took us from the TKE house where he's staying this summer to a free downtown concert, after stopping off for a bite to eat at Waffle House ok, Subway, but no one is perfect, right? Anyhow, downtown we all got to jive to the sounds of G-Love and Special Sauce. And jive we did. I brought out all the best moves, from the robot to the electric-style slide to gangsta bouncing wit' one hand in a gun like shape. My love of dance is strong as ever. Plus, there was a cute chick diagonally behind me to my left. I think she was with someone.

Shige' and John got into the act too. They helped groove it up. Matt was a little embarrassed, and a lot hurting from recent illness (in the non-hip hop-est sense). So, he hung back some.

After G-Love left our midst, Tonic came out, so we just chilled some, getting more glasses of "no heat stroke" for serious bling, bling, and giving an Olympic park statue noogies and stealing his nose. Once it started winding down, Shige' got the idea to pick up trash and we all chipped in, eventually cutting a swath of clean through a sea of refuse.

After the concert, we decided to scout the surrounding area for Avondale Estates. So up 285 we went, but to no avail. We eventually just got off and ate a Waffle House in Tucker.

Our waitress (possibly Mew, rarest of the waitresses) had to put up with our lollygagging and Palah-quips while we ate and then turned doorwise. And out the door we went, only to come back in and wait for one of Shige's friends, an Atlantean native who would aid us in our quest for the zero.

So, we sat down in a different booth and ordered some drinks and got to talking. She was an Oberlin student, which means stereotypically means piercings, shaved head, the works. In this case, the stereotype held. Good for it.

She, Katie, came bearing great news though. Having heard Shige's cries from the wilderness and she had sought the Zero of her own volition. Or hunger, whatever. She said it existed. She said she had directions. We all smiled and scribbled them down. We couldn't believe we had confirmation. WaHo Z.E.R.0 exists! And we have directions to it!

John said felt a little let down, knowing it existed, no diggity, no doubt. He wanted it to be surprise, like the gender of your unborn child.

My policy has always been that you're surprised when the Dr. administering the sonigram tells you. What does a few months heads-up spoil?Åc

Then again, sonigram said I was a girl. Mistakes have been made before.

Sometimes, I doubt myself. Sometimes, I wonder.

Do I actually dance well or am I just making a fool of myself?

Does my dancing impress because it's good or because it's bad and I'm not embarrassed?

What if it's a train wreck and no one dares look away?

All my dancing moves are self-taught self-administered. I picked them up slowly at Governor's School. Of course, all dancing is stupid if you stop and look at it. But maybe my style is making a Wing Biddlebaum out of me. Heaven knows I can only endure watching my hands on video once, my whole body flailing to a beat could be horrendous.

"Flailing" is my friend at Furman's term for my dance style. He's black, so he must be knowledgeable about dance, right? Maybe not, considering that his goal in life seems to be mocking people, dragging them down. Dancing doesn't really fit in his bag; it's not his thing. We're pretty good friends though, and though I'm inclined to trust himÅc Idonknow.

I guess, maybe, it's all just paranoia. I'm just being silly. It was all in my head.

*In melodramatic voice over* But what if it wasn't???

So, the next morning, we said good-bye to Dave and started following Katie's directions. We passed down Ponce-de-Leon Avenue past buildings cars, people. We drove on, out of Atlanta and into the suburbs.

So we get to the end of the directions and see the yellow and black sign and pull in. And John says he saw a unit number sign that says 1.000. So, we're pretty excited and start taking pictures and giving victory speeches. It was very exciting. And Shige' wonders into John's camera what it means that we aren't the first people to eat here, and probably not the first people to make this trip. It looks like just another Waffle House. So, I make my own speech about how Waffle House isn't about being unique, I mean it's a chain, they all serve the same things. Waffle House is about how good service with personal treatment, it transcends the sameness. In the same way that we're all people, and we're all the same, but we transcend our similarities.

And, we looked up at the sign.

And, we couldn't believe we had made it.

In retrospect, maybe we should have stuck with that feeling.