Monday, Monday...

...Except it's more like Tuesday for me: worked yesterday, filling in for a tekkie on vacation. Worked late, too, which means a hasty turnaround today and meant last night, I reached my target heart rate: it was such a beautiful afternoon, I rode my scooter to work and thus rode back home after midnight. From downtown.

It is a very great incentive to using your mirrors and keeping your eyes moving; this city never quite sleeps but in the wee small hours of a Monday, it's pretty somnolent. Weather was still nice, the least edge of a chill and scarcely a breeze.

With sleep cometh dreams and in a city hovering on the very edge of sleep, some of the dreams are anything but dreamy -- approaching 38th St. on Meridian (a major intersection). I noticed a car parked at a funny angle in a lot just off the street, headlights and interior lights on and movement in front of it. Car trouble? A wreck? A car-jacking?

Um, no. My first clue was the flash of metallic silver hotpants: either a very drunk partygirl or a lady of leasable virtue, dancing in front of the headlights and waving at passing traffic. I was a little ahead of a car in the lane between me and the scene and as we approached and she realized neither of us was in her target demographic -- the driver next to me being a gal deeply involved with her cellphone -- she abruptly sat back down on the hood.

You'd think IMPD might notice that sort of thing. Interestingly, though I see a lot of police cars during the day, none were in evidence along my entire midnight commute. Luck of the draw or a change in patrol patterns? I don't know. In the days of IPD, I saw about as many in the middle of the night as in the middle of the day; with most of the city asleep, that might not have been the most rational allocation of manpower.

The trip was uneventful from there on; even Broad Ripple settles down once Sunday's been tucked in.