JUMPING HIGHER
GETTING ACQUAINTED WITH PUNK CHILDREN

At seven o'clock in thirty minutes, I've been sliding down the road. The atmosphere looks empty. Many shops and shopping centers are still closed. Crossing through the city park, I found nothing but people who were preparing to go home after morning exercise. Usually the place hangout young children yes, in what cafe is in the mall, home cafe or just in the tent. Usually if you are lazy to hang out the most they go to discotheque. That's all I thought. If you like to play music, hang out in a studio that can be rented by the hour. The rest I don't know much, understand home children. It's still early this morning, who wants to hang out? The hangout place is still closed and the people who diligently hang out are still on snoring. It's where I came out today. Then I decided to go home. Let me go out again tonight to peek at the excitement of nightlife with the activists hanging out.

Heading home, passing a little from Panca Budi University, I almost hit someone when he wanted to cross the road. I stopped and pulled over.

"Why don't you see left right?" I parked my motorcycle on the side of the road.

"You're the one on the speeding road!" angry spray.

Whoa! At first glance I did not catch his figure that is so. Wearing a tight t-shirt, tight bud pants make his legs almost look like lempers. Don't ask her hair, I almost laughed at her. On the side of the flap to show the scalp, but at the top of the hair is long and combed standing like a fan. I guess that's mohawk style. Accessories should not be asked again. Thorny waistbands, necklaces, earrings, wristbands. Everything's nailing. Is he from the punk community? Has it reached this city, is this community? Ah, he must be Medan's son. From the style of his language earlier I am sure that he is indeed a child of Medan. It turns out I didn't follow the changes in the real world. There is a community of punk kids in my town.

"You're okay, right?" my many.

"Why were you speeding earlier, chased by a demon, huh?!" he asked back. Tartly.

"Disease, quiet, good to speed," I replied casually.

"Yes, but look at the people. What if I got hit? Do you want responsibility? At most you run!" fierce sergeant. Still with thick terrain logic.

"My name is Bono, who are you?" I extended a hand.

"I'm Slanted. Just call me Gir!" he answered without returning my hand.

I pulled back my hand that was still hanging towards him. Don't punks like to shake hands, do they? Or do they have their own way of shaking hands? Maybe by hitting and turning hands like Martin Lawrence style? Ah, I don't know. I don't know, all I know is Facebook. The real world I've been leaving behind for a long time is more complete. I've missed a lot of information.

"Where do you like to hang out?" manyaku.

"Around here" he answered short.

Take a look around the place. Until the intersection of Sei Sikambing market, a row of Tomang Elok shophouses. Oops! There's a bunch of punk kids huddled on the edge of that intersection.

"That's your friends?" manya curious.

"Yes, why?"

"No, just aja,” sahutku acting relaxed.

The punk boy who claimed to be called sleigh stepped towards the stop while removing a pack of cigarettes from his tight jeans pocket.

"You smoking?" the question while igniting a cigarette then exhaling smoke that billows and splits scattered in the air.

"Sometimes, if I join again," I answered honestly.

"It's take if you want," Dribble put a pack of cigarettes on the bench stop.

Yup! It is time to get along in the real world. If on facebook I often sent flowers, chocolate and I don't know what else, but all that is just virtual, can not be touched let alone felt. Quickly I moved the motorcycle from the roadside and parked it beside the stop.

"Which child?" Dribbled asked as I was just sitting on the bench stop.

"I live in Gaperta. What kind of kid are you?" I answered them asking.

"My parents are in Siantar. If in this field I'm boarding."

"Siantar? You know Bik Narti?" much fun.

“Bik Narti, who is he? Where does the house live?" Dribble turned to me while stroking his mohawk hair.

Hahey! Why am I being so fucked up, huh? All sorts of Bik Narti I asked the same punk kid. Yeah, where does he know? That's because I get along too often in cyberspace. Want nanya and any comments must be connected and certainly fun. Right wrong can be forgiven. The virtual world like on Facebook is very permissive.

"Who is Bik Narti?" tanya Diring curious.

"Ah, that. The one who helps at home" I replied embarrassedly.

I must think I'm an idiot. Ask questions and ask questions. All Bik Narti asked?

I saw the sleigh did not react. He returned to puffing cigarette smoke that was scattered like an abstract painting sweep in the air.

"Where are you boarding?" ask me to know.

The punk boy threw away the cigarette butts by flicking them and fell bouncing on the asphalt of the road.

"In Sunggal" he answered without looking.

"You go to school, college or work?" ask again.

"Who are you, not Medan's son, huh?!" Giring did not answer and asked back in a sharp tone to me.

"I'm a kid, why?" answer hence.

"Your language style isn't like Medan's child."

A wadidaw! All styles of language are confused. If you want to use a good language, yes Malay. Is that the root of the Indonesian language? What is wrong with you, friend? There's been no news for a long time. Ha-ha-ha ....

"Here you go, I go home first."

Then I stood up and took a motorcycle parked next to the stop. Dribble the punk child silently without reacting. I'm a motorcycle stater.

"I'm a painter!" yells Dribble suddenly.

I looked and saw him.

"Painter? Ah, you're an artist apparently," I chuckled.

My bike is moving slowly.

"When I'm here again."

"Be careful, don't speed like that!”

I just laughed a little at the words of Dribble, then bergeber motorcycle chasing traffic light that will soon turn red. I saw the countdown number on the traffic light already on the count to ten. Before the red light came on, I had already turned to the path of Captain Muslim and kept on driving the motorcycle with a feeling of plong. Now I'm back in the real world. My unique encounter and introduction with Giring the punk is unique, but what it is, honest and grounded. Makes me feel like I have friends in the real world.