The first time I saw the parking lot, I was lost in Edgewater, New Jersey. It was dark, hours after the stores had closed, and when I pulled into the lot to turn around I was surprised to see what looked like a huge party in process. In one corner teenagers were playing touch football; in another, salsa music was blaring and people were dancing. Everyone seemed to be dressed up, as if out at a club.
I had the feeling, watching the football fly back and forth against the night sky, that I had come upon a scene at once entirely unscripted but filled, nonetheless, with great potential for drama. The space of the parking lot presented itself as a stage, a place for the teenagers who gathered there to try on �" consciously and not �" the poses and roles they had taken from the world and that they were now learning to present back to it.