Thursday, July 12, 2007

The Commute



The alarm sets of at precisely 6.45am. The man is shook from his dream. The sudden and awful reality of his situation begins to seep into his consciousness. He is waking up! The bed is warm, his eyelids tired. He opens them and peers beneath both lids hoping its is the weekend. The room is cold; it's always cold in the morning, even in the summer. He knows, it's not the weekend. He knows its time to get up. A stillness covers him, all is quiet. The room awaits his arrival with a chilly embrace. The man is a reluctant partner. A thousand excuses forgive his laziness as he struggles to lose consciousness again, willing himself back to the cozy pleasure of rest. He is rewarded only with semi-slumber; a state so insulting to the genuine article it only infuriates him to a final lucid level.

Today. Today is the day. Today is the day, you do this right. Toss this bedding aside, a carnivorous cradle, stand like a man, a man unafraid of the perils of consciousness. Now, walk, open the door, walk to the bathroom, turn on the shower, hold your hand under the cascade, its cold, it will warm, undress, wash, dry, brush, gargle, return to bedroom, dress. Downstairs, check; keys, wallet, phone. No time for breakfast, the meal of champions, no thoughts for himself, only worries of congestion.

Ten miles and 45 minutes since leaving home the man pulls into a service station. The traffic is particularly heavy this morning. He dose not need petrol, or a car wash. He is here to, quickly and unconvincingly, redress the inadequacies his lifestyle casts upon him. He queues. 1 coffee, hot, made from granules served in a polystyrene cupette. The slimy liquid has the hue of wet cardboard and tastes equally corrugated. 1 hot soggy baguette, stuffed with greasy pork, it swims in a tinfoil bath of ketchup unlovingly applied by the deciliter. He queues, pays and files out briskly to return to his car with so many of his fellow dashboard diners. Here is their kitchen, their restaurant, where the diner is not only his own waiter, but table, napkin and fork. He eats quickly, quickly, breathing is an inconvenient necessity, eat, eat, chew. Mouthful motoring. The car is started, the clock is checked, the wait for an opening to return to the motorway is unwelcome.



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