I prowl the dark streets of Denver, searching for the perfect target. The cans of spray paint rattle lightly in my backpack, cushioned by old t-shirts but still too loud for my taste. It’s three o’clock in the morning, and I’m unlikely to encounter another person, but I’m still on edge.
Finally, I find a suitable location. A wide expanse of plain-colored stucco, facing a four-lane street which I take to be heavily trafficked during the daylight hours. There is just enough light from adjacent streetlights for me to see what I’m doing. I carefully set down my bag and withdraw one of the aerosol cans. A navy blue color – perfect. After giving it a hearty shake, I pop the lid off and begin my graffiti-ed message.
I take my time to make sure the letters are legible – I’m not an artist, I’m just a man fighting for a cause. They are big enough to be easily readable from across the street, and I go over them twice with the paint to make it harder to wash off.
Suddenly, I hear not-so-distant sirens, and it spooks me. After delaying for a few seconds, I determine that the siren is getting louder and therefore closer, so I cap my paint and prepare to make my escape. My message, “#hypedforg”, is only half finished, but I can’t stay to complete it. I duck into an alleyway and leave the area, intending to come back the next night.
When I return to complete my task, I am extra heedful of possible police presence in the area. The graffiti had surely been reported – it couldn’t have been missed. I take a round-about path down side streets to reach my destination, but when my graffiti comes into view, illuminated by the dim yellow streetlight, I grin in pride.
Somebody has finished my message. It now reads, half in navy blue lettering and half in gold, “#hypedforgaryharris”.
My work here complete, I give a silent thank you to the nameless Gary Harris fan and turn back the way I came.