Ding. Ding. Ding. I watched a dim light flicker from outside of the elevator, it's blue beams quivering menacingly off of decrepit maroon wallpaper. Slowly, I pushed my foot down as hard as I could on the faded orange carpet. I observed hypnotically as my shoe drew a lighter orange blob in the artificial undergrowth. The woman had specifically stated that she would arrive at ten. 10 o clock. Motel Roxy. Green chair. First elevator. Cash only. As it approached eleven, I began to question the validity of the internet. Similar thoughts arose regarding sanity, but were left at the wayside by impending insanity. The elevator had opened numerous times since my arrival, each instance revealing a hollow compartment; which taunted my lonely existence to it's rawest state. Knowing that I could be here all night, I made a compromise with myself. One more elevator shift. One last chance. Hell, I had nothing to lose.
Sleep began to coral me in it's warming arms as my eyelids turned to lead. While gradually drifting onto the median line of hypnagogia, a familiar sound jolted me. Ding. My eyes darted open. The sounds of the elevator seemed to play in halftime, and the sliding doors slowly creaked open. Nothing. I left.
Frigid wind bombarded itself into my ears. I schlepped as if moving upstream against the gales, angling my body forward towards my destination. I unlocked my 2001 Pontiac Aztek, listening intently to the faint rings of the now unlocked SUV. The lights of my vehicle mockingly flashed me from a mere 20 feet, as I pummeled myself into the trembling gusts. I heard my father’s voice echo in my cranium, providing a sense of interior calm that was polarized by the violent chinook to my exterior. Humans can control a lot of things, kid. Mother nature? Forget about it. Finally, I reached the door of my car. I could feel the warmth of my heating system, engulfed with anticipation. Without hesitation, I pulled the handle. Nothing.
The elevator opened. My brains scattered the wall like an eccentric painting.
The clock heartlessly turned to 6:30 on the man’s dresser, causing his obnoxious alarm to scream in terror. He woke up with a jerk, but quickly degraded back to sleepiness. A fly buzzed, creating a white noise in an otherwise lifeless room. He hadn’t awoken on the wrong side of the bed that morning, there just simply wasn’t a right side. Everyday was the same. Wake up, work, sleep. Wake up, work, sleep. The fly’s buzzing slowly died, resembling a plane with a blown engine. It lingered in the air, twisting and curling, until it finally dropped on his lap. Dead. Everyday was the same lifeless nonsense, but this day was different. Different solely because it wasn’t different. He reluctantly removed himself from his only friend, his stained hand- me-down mattress that rested below sea level due to the absence of a bed frame. The unfortunate bed served as a perfect symbol of the man’s current life; depleted, frameless, and stained. He walked into the kitchen of his trailer park home, the wood underneath a worn shag carpet creaking beneath his dragging feet.
6:35. He was required to be at work by 7, but he didn’t really care today. Not required by law, or religion, or anything really. Just a requirement to avoid being jobless. He dragged, and dragged, until anticlimactically reaching the couch. He plopped down, showing no respect to time, work, or whatever else he was supposed to care about today. Today could be different, he thought. Today will be different! Without hesitating, he jolted up. Exhilarating energy pulsed through his veins and his heart pounded like a large bass drum. With each echoing thump, an imaginary crowd roared in his head. He could feel the epitome of independence and enlightenment engulfing his body, as he marched out the door to the 'beat of his own drum.' He bee lined to his puke green Gremlin, smiling proudly as if his worn shagger-wagon was a brand new Lamborghini displayed by his house for the whole neighborhood to see. With force and tenacity, he backed out of his dirt driveway, scraping the side of his car with a mailbox that seemed to have moved since the last time he saw it. “Hope the mailbox's okay”, he whispered to himself sarcastically. The trailer park wasn’t really a place for living, but more of a series of temporary homes for failures. He coasted on to the road beside the park, his back bumper dragging and creating a fireworks display of sparks behind him. On a normal day, he would have turned right, going exactly thirty-five miles per hour to his day job. Today, he turned left, pushing the limits of his vintage Gremlin to a rickety sixty-five.
The sun peaked its way through fluffy red and blue clouds like a dim flashlight on carnival cotton candy. Grasslands stretched for miles beside him. The land and the sun dissolved into each other, painting a sfumato effect on the horizon. Everything was starting to look better. He dialed a number quickly into his flip phone. Without saying hello, he spoke. “I quit.” He hung up abruptly, carelessly throwing aside the fact that he had just lost his only source of income. At the end of the road was a two track that lead into a dark and mysterious area; the forest. He had never been there before, but that’s exactly what made it interesting. Something different sparked his newfound curiosity for the world, as he pulled into the woods. His bumper continued to drag, creating a dust storm that resembled the smoke of a disappearing act at the canopied entrance behind him. The man relished the epitome of independence for a second, while marveling at the realization that the one thing he truly needed had been directly in front of him all along.
