There Were More Bats than Meteors


Last night around 1:30 AM, Matthew L. and I drove up to the Kennesaw Mountain Park fields to catch a glimpse of the Perseid meteor shower. The conditions were pretty optimal (few clouds, low light, etc) considering how close we were to the city. All in all there were more bats than meteors, but we still saw about 16 shooting stars. The meteors more than made up for the sad, unfortunate slice of cake we’d just had at Gino’s pizza with Marky and the gang (side note: I still feel personally wronged by how bad the tiramisu cake tasted; it was the dessert equivalent of coming downstairs on Christmas morning and finding out you’re adopted).

We spread a picnic blanket out on the field and faced toward the northwestern sky, seeing meteors once every two minutes or so. And every now and then a bat would dive close enough to us to make me nervous. Not that I’m afraid of bats, mind you. I’m afraid of incurable diseases. Can rabies be transferred by spit? Or hot breath? If a bat swooped down and tenderly recommended his favorite restaurant into my ear, should I worry for my health? This was immediately forgotten once the meteors came out

On the way home I asked Matthew if he wished on any of the stars.

“Nah, not this time. Did you?”

“No,” I said. “I don’t do that anymore. It doesn’t feel like it does anything. Kind of like voting.”

Matt laughed.

I’m exhausted today after barely getting three and a half hours of sleep, but it was completely worth it.

(Header image by Jack Fusco)

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