From my perch atop Tower City, I can see the whole of Downtown, just like the peregrines who nest up here. Like them, I'm hunting, making sure the folks below have a safe, fun night. The night air is crisp, and brisk, the wind coming off the lake, about fifteen miles per hour, temp's around forty or so....Goddard's right, as usual.
Aha....one of our juvies is going to try cracking into a car on Euclid. I launch from the dome, and swoop down on his sorry tuchus, snatching the tire iron out of his hand-hopefully, that'll be enough to keep him home at night; he's wearing out his LeBrons getting away from here.
Personally, I prefer it when it works out this way-no one gets hurt, and that's one face that doesn't come wafting up in my dreams; I hate keeping my husband awake with my tossing and turning.
As long as I'm up, I might as well take a patrol....I'm not the only one of us out here, but I really dig flying, and any excuse is fine with me. I soar over the Rock Hall, then head southeast, planning to do Euclid and playhouse Square. I high-five Nightfang, who's headed to the West Side, drop low enough at the Square to shout hello to Michael Stanley, who's just coming off-shift at WNCX. For fun, I fly in formation with SkyFox 8, so they can get a shot of me for the eleven o'clock newscast.
I barrel-roll north to Superior, flying just above the underpass at East 55th, turning my flight into a slow spiral over Hough. It's really a slow night, the cold keeping folks in. Also, some of the bad guys have gotten the message, I think.
I fly fast over Sowell's place, or at least where the house once stood- the vibes still rise out of the ground there, like the wails of the murdered women....I shudder, and wish we'd come along sooner.
To cleanse myself, I zoom out over Mother Erie, bathing in the cold caress of her winds, loving the lights, like the galaxy inverted, upon her water and her shore. The sleepy lights of my hometown are to the west, a pale fraction of its glory days, when steel, cars, and ships were made there.
A quick snap-roll and dive, and I'm across the Cuyahoga and over Detroit Avenue, headed for the Happy Dog, a shot of Kilbeggan, and some Celtic tunes, for a wee break.
I spend my nights like this, stopping crime, helping those in need of help, and in general trippin' off the whole scene. As a native NorthCoaster, I love being able to make a difference here in my adopted home.
My name is Dreamboat Annie, and my heart is in Cleveland.