The two soldiers fall, the knight dents his tin armoured rear end, the Spartan loses his foam helmet to a sudden breeze.

"This is the thanks we get just for trying to help out," the knight says trying to repair his armour and dignity.

"They can't say we didn't try," the Spartan said.

"We go to all this trouble and look where it gets us," the knight says giving up on bending the metals but now walking with a limp due to the misshapen metal.

"WHat's he want with that plain old road anyway? He got a date or something?"

"Don't ask me to try an explain freshmen; I'm just a knight, not one of them philosopher-kings."

"And I'm just a simple soldier, not King Menelaus."

"You got that right."

"And I'm freezing in this toga. What kind of place is this?"

"Dunno, I just work here."

The glowing road unfolds below Eric's stumbling feet. As he walks on the surroundings change from the quiet New Jersy town to fields and farms asleep under the moonlight. The glowing road loses it's modern paved appearance and becomes a path of cobblestones with wagon wheel ruts to either side. The world is silent except for an occasional caw from a crow or barking from coyotes. Eric feels tiredness in his legs and for some reason the effects of the alcohol do not diminish. The road makes a long gentle bend to the right and passes next to a small cottage with a lit lamp placed on the windowsil. The front door is open a crack and shafft of warm light crosses the path.
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"Eric Olsen, you have walked for enough this night, don't you think? Come in and rest," a woman's voice calls from the house.