Descriptive Essay: The Arena

Descriptive Essay: The Arena

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The Arena - Sensory Overload


        Standing here, in this arena that's larger than five of my houses,

I feel like a needle in a haystack.  So many people surround me it's like

I'm a little grain of sand in a huge ocean.  The people in the round gymnasium

all form a crimson, white, and blue rainbow.  Their shirts mesh together

like a finely woven shirt with different colors strings.  Smelling the

concession stand foods, makes me feel like a starving child.  The aroma of

the melted cheese on nachos, makes me want to be outside having a picnic.

The smell of tenderly cooked hot-dogs makes my stomach growl wishing I had

some.  I can taste the hamburgers as somebody walks by with one.  The warm

meat, with a sweet barbecue sauce is delicious.


        Then, a man on a loud intercom yells for the players to come out.

The roar of the people surrounding me is like being right behind the jet of

an airplane.  The deafening noise makes me squint my eyes.  I open them

though and stand of the lightly cushioned seat.  I clap my hands along with

the other fans, and my hands feel greasy after just eating a hot piece of

pizza.  My mouth still has the pasty, saucy taste of the slice in my mouth.

I look down towards the court where the players have now started shooting

baskets.  Their brightly colored uniforms stand out in the glare of the

spotlights above.  The court has a waxy look, like it was just swept, and

the glass backboards, have a shine as bright as a new car.


        The band starts playing a song and the crowd swings their arms back

and forth through the air.  The mass of people moving looks like a field of

wheat blowing in a spring breeze.   A lady rubs up against me as she moves

down the aisle.  Her jeans have cracks, and they feel as dry as a lizards

skin that has spent the day in the desert.  Her sweatshirt contrasts the

dry feeling of the jeans.  It is made of a soft cotton that makes me think

of a bunny's fur.  Then a man in front of me comes to his seat with a glass

of lemonade.  The tangy smell makes me squint thinking somebody running

their fingernails down a chalkboard.


        And then the game ends.  The crowd all wearing smiles like they had

just one a prize.  Few others, scream and pout as they waddle down the

stairs to the doorway.  The noise has greatly decreased giving my ears a

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old abandoned building that hasn't been cleaned in years.  And then I step

outside.  And smell the fresh air.  And my mind clears.  Remembering times

in an empty park on a spring day.  I watch car after car pass by while

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