Everyone hates Mondays. There is just something about Mondays that makes everyone not want to roll out of the shelter of a warm bed and into a cold world. But what is it about a Monday morning that puts the Garfield into people? Alyson certainly didn’t know. She had a real good reason to love Mondays.

    Finally, off work, Alyson rushes to her little silver Yamaha scooter. She has but only two hours in which to get home, shower and change, and head over to the party. As she speeds down the back roads at forty-five miles per hour, she makes a mental check-off list of how she would dress and what she would take. Alyson loved to be creative with her outfits; everyone expected her to do something different.

    After parking her scooter in the lot, she ran up the stairs to her apartment’s door and proceeded to go inside. Undressing from her scooter gear and then her work clothes, Alyson went to the shower. She smiled bemusedly, imagining the party as she soaped up and rinsed down. Stepping out from the bathroom while drying her hair haphazardly, Alyson made her way to her bedroom. Grabbing her backpack, she packed in some clothes and some footwear, before rummaging around for a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. With pack in hand, she walked back to the bathroom and threw some makeup products and other toiletries into a separate pocket from her clothes. Once satisfied that she had all the clothes and accessories for a fun night, Alyson and backpack went to the kitchen for some munchies. After raiding the pantry, and donning on her scooter gear, Alyson locked up her apartment against intrusion, left the building, and mounted her Yamaha. The sun was setting now, she had plenty of time.

    The party was no secret to anyone within the neighborhood and all were invited to attend no matter their chosen walk of life. However, what made this party hit on the unique side was that it was hosted by a store and took place behind the storefront. Well, maybe that wasn’t the only unique thing about this party, thought Alyson as she pulled her scooter up next to a pickup in the parking lot. Out in front of the store were a few of the regulars like herself, but they were already dressed out with their tails, kilts, leather, velvet, cloaks, and jeans. After packing away her helmet into the storage compartment of her scooter, she said her helloes, gained a few very much needed hugs and made her way into the store and towards one of the changing stalls.

    A few minutes later, Alyson stepped out looking like some sort of gypsy witch in midnight blue and silver. She padded barefoot across the floor to the door that led out back, her anklet jingling gaily with each step. Already she could hear the pulsing music as it resounded through the closed doors and the small hum of people chatting and enjoying themselves.

    This is what everything was about; this was why she watches the clock for the last half of work after lunch, this is what makes Mondays wonderful. Opening the door, Alyson steps through into the pulsing heat of fire and music.

    She greets everyone as she walks around, hugging, kissing, touching each person in turn. She loves each and every person and they love her; these people were her family away from family, just like her apartment was her home away from home. As she makes her way through the crowd, Alyson closes in on the fire pit. Encircled by a large ring of stones and sand and dancing people, the fire looked like something from an ancient ritual that was used by witches; how apropos, bemused Alyson as she watched the witches of modern days dance in firelight. She caught the beats of the various drums just outside of the dancing circle, and with her tapping foot, started the beat for her body. Her hips began to sway, her arms began to snake, and her mind was lost to everything but the music. She danced.

    Living for only the moment, Alyson twirled and leaped and swayed to the beat of drums. The sand beneath her feet, the wind from the trees, and the fire from the pit were her only dancing partners. She was a whirlwind of blue and silver against a backdrop of flames and stars. For her, there was no one else, nothing else. Time, work, all the insults she has had to endure, all the poisons she has had to ingest, everything wrong with her and the world; all were gone, swept away by the drums, by the dance.

    Skipping lightly from the circle, what seemed like hours that had passed was but only thirty minutes. Alyson had to catch her breath and her head. Sitting on the ground, she allowed the world to ground her, to keep her from floating away with her euphoria. People came by to idly chat. She accepted some water and relaxed with the people, her people. In a few minutes, she would get up and dance some more and would continue this exercise till the party ended. This was her only late night for the week and she would enjoy it to the fullest. She didn’t care, these were her people, her drug, and she would let go and fly high. Who could hate Mondays when they are this much fun?