Early Morning Pale Blue

The alarm wakens me at least five hours before my body is ready to contemplate moving from the comfort of my warm bed. The annoying shapes, colours and blurs in front of my eyes start to form pictures that seem vaguely, familiar. I use the most wondrously, pointless device ever invented, ‘the snooze button’ to drown the noise attacking my ears. I now have ten seconds of calm before the little voice in my traumatised head starts to repeat the mantra “if you go back to sleep now…you’ll be late”. Wearily I turn the snooze function off and follow my full bladder to the bathroom.

Washed but not refreshed I force down coffee and cigarettes laced with relaxants and search for ties and socks cursing my inability to prepare for anything more important than a munchies run. A last minute check and I’m out the door ready to face the day.

Either the cold or the heat hits me, it depends on the season but it doesn’t really matter, all that matters is me thinking ‘damn, I wish I was still in bed’ I produce the grotesque bundle of keys from my pocket and entre my steely wagon. I place the stereo rougly into it’s slot and am suddenly surrounded by a wall of sound. I turn the ignition and my weary beast of a motor stirs into life much like me hearing my alarm. I reverse back up my drive hoping to hit pedestrians so I can be late for work but no joy.

Five seconds I’m jumping spped bumps. 30 Seconds into my journey I hit but don’t hit kids crossing the road, ‘yes move along’ through gritted teeth while ‘stand their and give me a reason’ enters my thoughts. Next up is traffic lights, I see cruisers the size of Russian parliaminsitry tanks probably carrying a kidnapped dignitries child but in reality is a parent and some shopping scoot past. Finally it’s just me and another 10 bumps and 6 lights before I reach my town centre.

The laws of the traffic lights are much similar to the rules of the gents, eye contact is frowned upon by some and at the risk of a beating from others. Still, I steal a glance sideways at my fellow passengers of the highway of hell. Their expressions match my own of annoyanace at the DJ’s insistence of chatting about his own boring life and fake competitions rather than playing a bloody song.

I pass the familiar landscape approaching but never exceeding speeds of 30mph, the same old sounds and smells greet my every turn. Finally I I see my destination. Yep, I like this place.