The Return of the Scott

So yeah, last week I was a loser and forgot to post. Sorry 'bout that. 6 days later, here's my contribution. Basic explanation is as follows. I'm trying to gather my thoughts for a film project I've been brainstorming for since September. It's very "Coffee and Cigarettes" in that its a collection of many short vignettes whose relationship to one another is by mood and theme, not by plot. Basically, I'm seeking to define our generation. So what follows is the first scene I have in my head. I thought about writing it down in script form, but decided to prose it instead. So here we go...be gentle, it's very rough.

In all honesty, it was just a highway. A busy highway at night. But from where they stood, high above the whirring engines, it was a vast sea of red and white lights, paired off in twos, moving to or fro in perfect symmetry. She loved it. She loved how he would show her things like this. Most guys she’d gone out with would just do the “dinner and a movie” thing weekend after weekend. But he was different. He liked to watch things no one else cared to. He had picked her up tonight with no plans, just an inclination to drive. Twenty-five minutes later, they had come upon this highway overpass in the middle of nowhere. She moved to put her arm around him, but stopped when she looked over to see his face. His eyes were wide open and completely still, intent to take the scene in completely. His face was lit up from the glowing lights below. He was beautiful. She was content to just watch him, studying the lines of his face and wondering what he was thinking. And as if on cue, he began to speak his mind.
“So this seems to me to be a bit on the corny side, but here’s what this reminds me of. This,” he said, pausing to extend his arm out toward the ocean of lights below them, “is life. This is a bunch of people passing each other on the way to where they’re going. And what’s funny is that this truck over here and the one six cars back are possibly going the same place. But they have no idea. And this guy over here might be perfect for this girl over here, and they both might be singing along to the same song on the radio, but they’ll never meet.”
She grinned. “So, life is a highway?”
“Oh God,” he moaned. “I knew it was sorta corny, but I didn’t realize how corny. I swear, our generation’s been robbed of all possible creativity and free thinking by the everpresent mass media. A hundred years ago I would have been a poet, but today I just quote 80’s music.”
“That’s OK,” she replied. “It was a good thought. I liked it.”
She thought again about putting her arm around his, but decided to ask a question instead. “So where’s your highway going?”
He paused for a moment. “Well that’s the rub, isn’t it? I have no idea. At this point, I’ve got a destination in mind, I suppose, but who knows if that’s where I’ll end up. At this point I’m just passing the time by picking up some snacks and fooling with the radio.”
“So, all we are is dust in the wind?” she said.
He laughed. “Yep, and every rose has its thorn.”
They smiled at each other, and turned once again back toward the road below. It began to grow cold, and she shivered in the wind.
“At least I’ve got one thing going for me,” he said.
“Oh yea, what’s that?”
“I’ve got a passenger to share the road with me.” he said and reached his hand out toward her. She reached out toward his hand, but instead reached up to his shoulder and pulled him close to her. “You sure do,” she whispered. “So let’s hit the road, Jack.”