a smith must dream

guest post

So I get to work early today.  Yeah, that’s right, you are worthless and I am an upright citizen.  I park my car in the garage, of course, as one must avoid the monstrous 80 degree sunrays – bringing sunshine into my life and uncomfortable hotness to my car.  No thank you.  I’ll take the shade, within the natural cement tomb, like god intended.  I didn’t spend my childhood avoiding sunlight in basements while playing video games for nothing.  I’ve trained like an Olympic athlete for this lifestyle, and I’m not going to give it up without a fight.

But I digress.  I get to work early!  I am a responsible worker, worthy of recognition.  I look at the side entrance to the State House.  My dear friend.  “Oh, Senate Avenue entrance, my dear West side door, you’ve been sweet to me.  I’m never judged when I walk through your golden archways.  The only ones who enter you are the basement dwellers, the lame, and the common folk who must be scanned and patted down like the potential criminals we all know they are – my folk.  All those memories of lazy late mornings; strolling in 10, 15, hell it’s Friday let’s pull the 45 minute trick out of the bag – I will not forget them.  But, today is different.  Don’t worry, I’ll be back, you and I both know it, but today I’m early and I will walk with my head held high through Main Door.  The steps leading up to it demand respect, the ID lock and sign saying “Employees Only” proves what you had suspected for a long time, you’re special.  Maybe today, you’ll bump into somebody important, and they’ll say, “Hey look at this guy, he’s at work and early.  Frank, make this man my new Vice President!”

A man must dream.  But there’s no Frank.  No VP offer.  Instead, you only see a tool advisor to the Governor who looks at you with attitude.  Bad attitude.  I can’t tell if he’s pissed at my not-short hair, my beard, or my jeans.  Probably all of it; I’m basically walking around with the blue letter D hanging at my neck; some liberal/political version of the Scarlett Letter I suppose, and the end result is: I do not pass as a Republican.  I think, “What’s his problem?  If I had the #5 parking space and just hopped out of a BMW, I’d have a skip in my step.”  But there’s no skip, only that conservative stiff walk and unfriendly glare.  “It’s as if we we’re all born with a stick up our asses, but the majority of people have it removed when they were young so you don’t remember.  Like your foreskin.”

These thoughts barely have enough time to register before I open the door and allow him to walk through first, like the woman I have now deemed him to be.  Is that kindness in my eyes, or mockery? No ‘thank you’?  Buddy, you just made the list.

Maybe next time I’m early it will be different.

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