"I hate seeing my breath in the cold. It reminds me of too many things..." by Jeremi Handrinos, today. I'll tell you what I liked about the balcony the most. It's different for everybody granted, but for me it was the comfort in knowing that I was in control of my self. Yeah, that's how bad it had gotten. I often look back at certain events in my life up until the balcony, pull hard on my cigarette, exhale, take a swig from my warm beer, and see an endless line of pissed crocodile heads. Daring me to try that dash across one more time. I had been dancing just outside of Gross Point, MI. At a place called the Wild Goose, with my best friend Ross. Talk about co-dependent relationships? Ross, and I, had been inseperable all the way through high school 'til now. We weren't fagging out or anything. We just had a lot of things in common. Drugs, booze, crime, and the list just degrades from there. We put the cotyledon in the term seedy. But some would argue that we burnt away beautifuly. Somehow, hearing that was never very reassuring. The Wild Goose was pretty much everything it's name hinted at. Well decorated with lavish colored thick curtains and plush fabrics. Finely carved furniture with high backs and dark solid legs. Exquisite virgin white doileys under the glass upon every table around the stage and bar. The stage boasted one shiny brass pole at its front edge. An entrance and an exit at the other end behind the drapes. A changing room with lockers drenched by the smell of cheap strong cologne like "Old Spice" mixed in with outrageously over priced cologne such as "Joop". With just a dash of drugs and sex. Yes, the Wild Goose, that's where our story begins. A perfect meeting place, in the Faustian sense.