The following events took place during your humble Monkey’s commute to work yesterday morning.
5:30 a.m. Alarm goes off for first time. Sleepy Monkey stirs momentarily, tries to figure out why he set the alarm so early, then presses snooze.
5:40 a.m. Alarm goes off for second time. Monkey presses snooze again.
5:50 a.m. Alarm goes off third time. Monkey takes panicked look at other side of bed to see if girlfriend has been roused by the incessant ringing. Girlfriend often yells at Monkey for setting alarm too early and hitting the snooze button, though Monkey continues to set it early in the vain hope that he will leap out of bed and immediately achieve some sort of PRODUCTIVITY before leaving for work.
But Monkey is too tired for productivity, in all uppercase letters or otherwise, and sets his alarm to go off at 6:30 a.m.
7:00 a.m. Monkey stirs and wonders why it is so bright outside all of a sudden. Mother fuck! How did it get to be seven already? Why didn’t the alarm go off again? He shut it off? When did that happen?
7:00-7:30 a.m. Despite assuring himself that he would be quick in the shower, Monkey’s mind starts to wander once the hot spray comes down, and he is unable to shake the shower’s siren song. Mother fuck again! How did that shower take a half hour? Dog still needs walking and coffee still needs to be made.
7:30-7:45 a.m. Dog gets a quick once-around the block and Monkey runs out the front door with ice coffee in hand. Sprints all out to top of the street to catch the bus.
7:50 a.m. Half-full bus blows by the bus stop on its way to subway station. Sadistic driver grins and leers at poor, trembling Monkey.
8:00 a.m. The next bus, packed to the brim with people, limps and gasps its way up the street, creaking to a stop at the curb so Monkey can cram inside and join the roiling, ill-tempered mass of humanity within.
8:00-8:30 a.m. Bus completes 15-minute drive to the station in a tidy and efficient 30 minutes. Monkey’s personal space has been violated so may times during the ride that he no longer knows where he stops and other people begin.
8:35 a.m. Monkey enters subway car along with remaining population of city. Car is so crowded that he ends up pressed against the glass like an aquarium-cleaning sucker fish.
8:40 a.m. Monkey listens as incredibly cranky subway driver barks orders into the intercom about “standing behind yellow line” and “allowing passengers to exit the train before you enter.” Monkey assumes that people will not follow these orders, and Monkey is correct. Service is delayed for the first of many times.
9:00 a.m After endless delays due to crowding at each stop, Monkey finally arrives at his station. Upon exiting the train, Monkey’s path to work is immediately blocked by a sinister mass of slow moving people, each of whom walks in center of the corridor so there is no polite way for desperately late Monkey to pass them.
9:15 a.m. Monkey finally arrives at work, taking guilty glances in all directions as he sneaks into his office. Monkey hopes that no one has noticed his late arrival.
9:15 to 9:30 a.m. Monkey reads headlines from the local newspaper, conveniently sent by email to his work inbox. Feels guilty for not starting work right away. Feels extra guilty for arriving late.
9:30 a.m. Monkey resolves to spend the rest of the day engaged in productive, nose to the grindstone work. Genuine productivity. The toil that made his Monkey forefathers proud. Monkey knows he is lucky to have a decent job in a tough economy. He is not a Chilean miner or a prison guard or the employee of a cruise ship. He has a better than average chance of making it through the day without getting trapped underground, stabbed with a shank or stricken with the norvovirus. All he has to do is focus on WORK.
9:35 a.m. Monkey checks Facebook on his phone.