Morning Commute

It would soon be winter and Harry had a tough time getting out of bed. The cool weather and his new down comforter made it difficult to rise and shine. Moving into the city for his job allowed for essential extra minutes of sleep. With great effort Harry sat up and looked at the time. He determined it was possible to squeeze in a few more minutes of glorious shuteye. The snooze alarm, savior that it is, woke him with a jolt and a frenzied feeling that he had overslept. Fortunately, this was not the case.

He started the coffee maker. Once in the shower the warm embrace of the water eased Harry’s awakening. Without opening his eyes he grabbed for the soap dish. There was no soap. Peering out into the bathroom he saw that there was no soap by the sink. To Harry, the morning shower was as important as coffee. He ran to the kitchen to look under the sink. No soap. After deliberating weather or not to use dish soap he grabbed a towel and ran next door. Harry had not taken the time to meet most of his new neighbors. He knocked on the door beside his. An older woman answered. She just stared at him soaking wet in the hall way in nothing but his towel. Harry introduced himself.

“I’m sorry to bother you but I’m out of soap. Can I bother you for a bar.” He said. She just continued to stare with a look of confusion.
“I promise I’ll return it. Or, ah, I’ll replace it later today” he said.
“Hold On.” She said. She shut the door leaving him alone in the hallway. Another neighbor came down the stairs. She stopped, looked at Harry and laughed then continued down the stairs. Now cold and embarrassed he stood shivering in the hall way waiting for some soap. The door opened again.
“Here. Keep it.” She said. Without another word she shut the door.
Harry ran back to his apartment to find that the door had shut and locked itself.

“DAMN IT.” he said.

He remembered leaving the water running. He would have to do something quickly. The landlord lived nowhere nearby. He would either have to wait for someone with a key, climb up to his porch, or climb from a neighbor’s porch to his. It was 30 something degrees. Going outside for more than a few seconds was not an appealing option. Harry decided to ask for help from the nice lady who had given him the soap. After explaining his situation she let him. She rolled her eyes and pointed to the porch. He thanked her and took a deep breath before going out into the cold. He surveyed the distance for an instant and climbed up on the rail. As he stretched to reach his porch with his foot the towel came undone and fell two floors to the alley below. Harry leapt to his apartment naked.

Now nude he discovered that this door was also locked.

To avoid further embarrassment and to keep from acquiring ammonia he decided to break a window on the door to let him self in. He ran to the shower. There was no flood and no more hot water. He lathered and cleaned up as quickly as he could.

He got dressed. A few extra layers were in order this early in the morning. The wind would freeze most people but Harry was a stubborn sort. He hated having to take the train. It was always overcrowded in the morning. It never ran on time. Everyone Harry encountered on the train in the morning was either uptight and inconsiderate or unconscious and incoherent. To avoid all this he had committed to commuting on his bicycle. It was not yet cold enough to snow. After packing his work shoes, tie, pants, deodorant, and paperwork he unlocked his bike from the porch and made his way down to the street.

Harry went around back and threw the towel back onto his porch. He got on his bike and began coasting down the hill. He made his way down the street and merged with traffic. Inclined to run anyone over in his way, he rode aggressively. It was also getting late. Harry merged in and out of traffic. He ran a few red lights and cut off several cars. At the first major intersection he was forced to stop while the traffic lights changed. The Number 11 to Broadway turned the corner as he looked in both directions. The bus splashed through a puddle that remained from a previous evenings shower. It completely engulfed Harry in a wave of rancid runoff from the gutter of a busy city street. He had enough of this terrible morning and was about to let the bus driver know it.

He pedaled furiously towards the next traffic signal where the bus was waiting. As the light changed he came to a skidding stop directly in front of the bus. Harry and the bus driver stared at each other. Harry mustered the meanest scowl he could. The bus driver was unimpressed and blew the horn. From the depths of his sinuses he created an awful cud. He unleashed it on the windshield of the bus. The driver’s glare went from one of wide eyed disgust to grimacing contempt. She opened the door in time to see Harry speeding away.

Harry was debating if he should even go to work. Of course, he really had no choice. His despair slowly transgressed to misery. It was unbelievable that a day could go so badly. It was only eight thirty. As he contemplated playing hooky the bus pulled up next to him. The door was open.

“You better wipe that off you little turd.” said the driver.
Harry looked at her, and then looked at the window. A yellow paste was smeared across the window from her having tried to clean it with wipers. He started to laugh.
“I don’t think this is very funny. I don’t know what your problem is but you do not spit on MY bus.” She said
“Lady you drenched me in sewer water. You’re lucky I don’t piss on your fucking bus.” said Harry.

The 300 lb bus driver got up and came down the steps toward Harry. He sped off as she reached out to grab him. She jumped back on the bus and took off after him. A few of the passengers egged her on. A few of the passengers complained they were late for work. The bus was rumbling down the hill toward Harry who was looking back in disbelief. How was it that this day continued to worsen as it went? The bus gained ground as it approached the next intersection. To avoid getting caught Harry flew into traffic and grazed a cab as he turned. Keeping up speed from the previous hill, Harry began ascending the next one. The first few feet were fine. With each pedal he lost momentum. The incline grew increasingly steep. A small alley presented itself to his right. As Harry crossed to the adjacent street he saw the bus turn to go in the same direction. He came out into the open. At the bottom of the hill the bus waited for Harry to make his next move. Harry surveyed his options; the hill went up another 100 yards. The street was as steep as the previous one. There were no nearby alleys. His only option was to try and navigate around this bus and its behemoth driver.

The bus driver refused to budge despite several grievances expressed from the passengers. She was in a stone cold staring contest with the boy on his bike. Harry heard cars honking and people yelling but still the bus stood unmoved. He stepped into his pedals, leaned into the hill, and began to pedal as fast as he could.

The bus driver came around the front of the bus and crouched down like a linebacker ready to blitz. Harry picked up speed and aimed right for her. As he barreled towards the gigantic woman a meter maid yelled out.

“You better move this bus immediately”

The driver’s attention was diverted for an instant. Harry saw his opportunity for escape. He leaned into the turn without breaking a bit. As he came to the back of the bus a car came around the rear. It swerved to avoid hitting Harry. The car’s fender bounced of the side of the bus. Harry stopped short.

The bus driver ran her hands through her hair in frustration. The meter maid was yelling and pointing at Harry. The driver of the damaged vehicle got out to survey the damage. Traffic began to pile up on itself. Harry froze momentarily. He looked around in amazement thinking, I’m not dead, wow. Harry made the decision to run. He pedaled as fast as he could the rest of the way to work. He never looked back.
He made an honest effort to learn to love the train.