Be There in Fifteen

I exhale deeply as I sit. A bowl of hot soup accessorized with a lightly toasted slab of fresh bread atop. I pull the ring of a twelve ounce pilsner and take a sip, waiting for the browser to load. It has been a long day and I am pleased with the degree of my fatigue as it represents effort, movement and labor. I dab the bread into the soup to carefully add enough melted cheese, lentils, spinach and pepperoncini to complete the desired palate of tastes. I am holding the bread at eye level considering with delight with pending transfer from olfactory to gustatory. When the phone alerts me to an incoming text.

Immediately I am reminded of a recurring scenario of which I once envisioned to be a semi-scientific lab test. I chuckle at the very thought of it, marveling at the speed with which a simple digital sound, in this case a maniacal laughing crane, has connected a long forgotten memory to the present moment. I put the toast back on the bowl landing it with the precision of a jet fighter pilot on an air craft carrier. As I enter the ridiculous passcode that unlocks the phone, the semi-scientific experiment’s objective protocol plays out in a series of one-frame video flash cards. One second each. 

I am tired from 0530 high-intensity spin class

I sit at my work station after five straight hours of video editing

I remove my glasses to massage my weary and bleary eyes

I decide to take a ten minute break

As I sip a re-heated cup of day-old coffee then decide a twenty minute nap is in order

I negotiate the twelve steps leading to my loft bedroom

Remove hat, glasses and lay down pulling comforter over me

Pull hoodie overhead and take deep breath inducing deep relaxation

Look at the clock

Phone rings. 

The experiment I designed was this: If I needed a return call, some logistical update, a bit of fresh news or just the sound of a friendly voice, once I lay my poor body down to restore and relax, I could, through a mysterious and marvelous interpretive application of pi and my personal theory of hyper-special relativity, induce, conjure or prompt said communication. WITHIN ONE BREATH AFTER LAYING AFOREMENTIONED BODY DOWN. It was as if the universe was telling me that there was no time to lose and/or I could sleep when dead. In more crude terms I was being told to wake the fuck up and get my lazy ass back to work. The innocent demolition wrecking crane operator wreaking destruction and havoc upon past bias and outmoded rigidities. Concrete falls. This never failed. Pavlov’s team of ravenous canines would salivate every test and the speed of light will always be 299,7922,458 meters per second, like death and taxes, a sure thing. 

I open the text.

Have a fever of 102, need a ride to Urgent Care. 

I stand, look at the soup, reply.

Be there in fifteen.