Monday morning back to work day. I backed the truck out of the garage and started down the highway. I needed to adjust the side mirror and rolled down the window a little. The fresh air felt good so I left the window down.
The day was gloomy and overcast, cool and misty. I had a long drive ahead of me,
so my thoughts began to wander. It was not long until I hit a patch of fog I was completely in fantasy land.
I sat taller in my seat, thrust out my chest and imagined I was in a much better place.
Now I was Captain LeClerc, sailing the high sea in on the HMS Beagle, wind in my hair,the ocean rolling and heaving, the feel of a light rain against my clean-shaven cheek. I could hear roar of thunder in the distance as I charged forth unafraid and bold, toward the fearsome foe, the uncertain destiny that waited for me.
The thunder grew louder and closer, and I could smell an acrid burning smell, almost assuredly the stench of death from Davy Jones locker. Suddenly there was a sizzling sound and a huge wave hit the starboard bow, rolling up to the ships wheel where I stood undaunted and unwavering. I was the "The Captain".
The sizzling suddenly got louder and I was suddenly jolted back to reality. I was
not a captain, I was not wearing a uniform, and my ship was just an old pickup. A tractor trailer rig had passed me on the left, and the rain had gotten harder. I was getting soaked. The smell of death was only the combination of the diesel exhaust from the semi, and the wet manure of the stockyard I was driving past.
The aroma of all that cow crap was just formidable and at this point, I was compelled to roll up the window. I turned off the Roger Whitaker CD (only those of you over the age of 70 will understand that obscure reference, so basically none of you) and wiped my glasses clean. The fog was lifting and the rain was steady.
I knew from experience that once you leave a daydream, you never really get to go back. It is just not the same. The work parking lot was full and I had to park farther out than usual. I would be able to enter a new fantasy.
The one where I love my job and sunshine and butterflies fly out of my rear end.
The day was gloomy and overcast, cool and misty. I had a long drive ahead of me,
so my thoughts began to wander. It was not long until I hit a patch of fog I was completely in fantasy land.
I sat taller in my seat, thrust out my chest and imagined I was in a much better place.
Now I was Captain LeClerc, sailing the high sea in on the HMS Beagle, wind in my hair,the ocean rolling and heaving, the feel of a light rain against my clean-shaven cheek. I could hear roar of thunder in the distance as I charged forth unafraid and bold, toward the fearsome foe, the uncertain destiny that waited for me.
The thunder grew louder and closer, and I could smell an acrid burning smell, almost assuredly the stench of death from Davy Jones locker. Suddenly there was a sizzling sound and a huge wave hit the starboard bow, rolling up to the ships wheel where I stood undaunted and unwavering. I was the "The Captain".
The sizzling suddenly got louder and I was suddenly jolted back to reality. I was
not a captain, I was not wearing a uniform, and my ship was just an old pickup. A tractor trailer rig had passed me on the left, and the rain had gotten harder. I was getting soaked. The smell of death was only the combination of the diesel exhaust from the semi, and the wet manure of the stockyard I was driving past.
The aroma of all that cow crap was just formidable and at this point, I was compelled to roll up the window. I turned off the Roger Whitaker CD (only those of you over the age of 70 will understand that obscure reference, so basically none of you) and wiped my glasses clean. The fog was lifting and the rain was steady.
I knew from experience that once you leave a daydream, you never really get to go back. It is just not the same. The work parking lot was full and I had to park farther out than usual. I would be able to enter a new fantasy.
The one where I love my job and sunshine and butterflies fly out of my rear end.
No comments:
Post a Comment