One morning last week, a metallic crashing noise woke me before my alarm had a chance to. It was still darkish outside. The clock read "6:00 a.m."
My first thought was that my AC unit had fallen out of the window. (I still haven't installed it properly, post-move.) I lay there, trying to decide whether I thought that was hilarious or horrible. The line between the two is pretty thin at 6:00 a.m.
When the crashing noises continued, though, I realized it couldn't have been the AC. My second thought was that it must be a homeless person, pushing a dumpster down the street and hitting it with a baseball bat. (Clearly. Had to be.)
But the noises sounded too close to be on the street, two stories below. And they weren't stopping, and I wasn't sleeping, so I decided to investigate. I quit my bed, crept over to the window, and peered out into the darkness.
There was a man, standing six feet away from me.
Crap-on-a-stick, I said (or something like it). I hadn't expected to see a person hovering outside my third-floor apartment. A shocked second later, I remembered that a billboard space is attached to the exterior of my building. And this man - wearing a white hard hat with a light attached - was not levitating but rather standing on a small ledge, plastering over the old billboard poster with a new ad (this one for a Spanish-language cooking show, Hombres En La Cocina!)
Mystery of the metallic noise now solved, I went back to bed. But couldn't get back to sleep, because changing ads proved to be a loud business. So I lay there pondering why this business needed to be done at dawn, when the ad man needed to wear a fancy hat to see, and this girl needed earplugs to sleep. Could it not have waited til 9 a.m.?
Wait, don't answer that. Just remind me - who was the one that wanted to wake up in a city that never sleeps?
Oh yeah. That was me.
Folks, sometimes dreams really do come true.