As the fog climbed up the shower’s glass door, I thought of an adventure I had. On our first date, we left Vegas at sunset. Her shirt was red and polka-dotted and she smelled strongly of her sandalwood hand lotion. The moon just hung around us throughout the drive, and I sometimes think that it would have been better to pull over the car right away rather than wait to kiss her when we parked at the movie theater in L.A. But the memory’s a pleasant one after all this time, so there’s no sense in ‘if onlys.’ We made it in time for the previews, and after the movie we ate at a Lebanese restaurant at two in the morning. I have not since eaten at a Lebanese restaurant at two in the morning. On the drive back, she fell asleep on my arm, not just holding my hand but hugging it. How could I possibly move it away, safety hazards notwithstanding? I think that’s when my hand became conditioned to always, always hold a significant other’s when in a car. I was nodding off, changing songs on the iPod, feeding myself Starbursts and taking sips of soda, all one-handed. The symmetry may seem phony, but I dropped her off at her car back in Vegas at sunrise. Though the air beyond the bathroom has been lacking in adventure, nothing is empty here.
It’s 6:45am.
Time to get up. I roll out of bed and head for the shower, bumping into the walls of my hallway along the way. Almost as if I was a bumper car at a local carnival. A blast of cold water coming out of the shower head finally hits my face and I begin to gain some sort of consciousness. Random appointments, meeting, dinner plans begin to rush to my head. I begin to plan out my day. Decide what I will wear. Decide what I’ll have for lunch. As I brush my teeth, I stare aimlessly at the mirror across from me. Not really looking at my reflection, but wondering if there is another world out there. If so, what is the personality of my reflection like? Is it the same as mine, or perhaps the complete opposite? Suddenly my phone begins to vibrate. It’s my friend calling to see if I’m on my way to pick him up for work. I assure him that I am, but in reality I completely forgot that I had agreed to that. I finish brushing my teeth and rush out of the door. After picking my friend up and sitting through the torture that is Los Angeles traffic, we arrive at our destination and make our way to our generic cubicles. Management seems to run by a bunch soul sucking leeches. They’ve banned any sort of decoration that can bring even the slightest ray of happiness to its occupant. No family pictures. No diplomas. No posters. No customized mouse pads. Just a computer screen with a spreadsheet surrounded by the dull gray color of the walls. You can literally see the life being sucked out from everyone in the office. They sort of transform into this zombie state. It’s now 2:00pm. Finally the magical hour has arrived. I have no idea how this power came to me, but to tell you the truth I don’t really care. It’s what gets me through this miserable job. I reach into my pocket and pull out a postcard with a beautiful picture of Yosemite Falls. A smile comes across my face and I close my eyes and count to 3. 1, 2, 3…a rush of fresh air hits my nostrils and a soothing sound of cascading water hits my ears. I open my eyes and am no longer in my dreaded cubicle. I am standing at the base of Yosemite Falls. For the next hour, I am free to roam this amazing place. For the next hour, I get to admire its beauty. I am free. I am unsure if this is real or if it’s just a dream. All I know is that it happens everyday during the work week at 2:00pm. For at least one hour that day, I’m entitled to happiness. I get to travel the world. I get to go on adventure. Even if it is for only an hour. It’s now 5:00pm. Time to go home.
It’s 6:45am. Time to get up…
