His car jolted to a stop and his eyes glazed over. L49 A9W. He looked up from the license plate on the car in front of him and stared at a homeless man pushing a shopping cart full of his belongings down the sidewalk. The homeless man walked up to the stand where one could sell cans for 70 cents a lb. He’s maybe got 300 cans in that bag. Not bad, the man in the car thought. Just then, the car in front of him sped forward, and he took off.
The man had made the trip thousands of times. Right on Backwood Drive, left on Harris, all the way to his office. Harris was the fastest way to get to work. He was so used to the trip that he knew exactly which lane to be in at which intersection. However, the trip was such a routine that the man could practically do it in his sleep. Sometimes he would pull into the parking garage at work and realize that he had made the 45 minute commute without thinking at all. He had tired of the radio and would occasionally listen to CD’s, but most often, he didn’t listen to anything. He picked at the back of his teeth with his tongue and thought, that Malt-O-Meal really leaves something to be desired. It tasted about as soggy in the bowl as it does in my teeth one hour later.
Today was different though. The man didn’t realize it, but today was different. He would finally think about something worth thinking about.
As he approached 48th Drive, the man noticed more brake lights than usual. That’s odd, he thought. An accident, maybe? He was so thrown off his usual course that the man made an abrupt turn on a street that would help him avoid the traffic. He only went on this street when there was an accident or construction on Harris. Again, the man knew the quickest way to get to work; he was no novice here. As the man turned on the street, he saw throngs of people, all in white t-shirts, gathering at the nearest park. In fact, they were coming from everywhere. The man looked closer, trying to make out what was on their shirts. A logo, he thought. No, wait, it looks like…a road. No, a track. A train track. The people looked mad. What is this about, he wondered. Just then another group caught his eye. These people were wearing black shirts with the logo “Get your railroad off our ROAD!” in large print. The man pulled forward in the intersection, but was so intrigued by what was going on that he decided to pull to the side of the road and watch. The two groups converged in the middle of the park, white on one side, black on the other. On a raised platform were two women: one finely dressed woman and one overweight, ragged-looking woman. He recognized the finely dressed woman from posters around town. She was running for mayor and was obviously siding with the white shirts. The ragged-looking woman was wearing the black shirt with the logo on it.
The man unrolled his windows so he could hear what each woman said. They each had microphones so the crowd could hear what they said. The mayor candidate was composed and relaxed as she began. “This railroad is just what the city needs. It will bring jobs and tourism to our city, which so desperately needs increased revenues. If I am elected mayor, I will make sure this train makes all the right stops, and folks, it’s stoppin’ here.” The last word was said with emphasis (and attitude), and the man thought it sounded clever, her little pun. The raggy woman then gathered her thoughts and said, “Listen; I am a business owner, along with hundreds of you gathered here, and we know that this railroad would ruin our businesses! Her promises of increased revenues would be at our expense! Our shops would be shut down! Our families forced to move so factory warehouses could go up! You must understand that this is just some ploy to get her elected! It’s just being draped under the guise of “helping the community!” It is no help! So get your railroad off our ROAD!” This was met with screams and cheers, support and hate. The crowd was even more worked up. The candidate tried to say something in her microphone, but was drowned out by noise.
The man got out of his car, and the noise was deafening. People were continuing to swarm towards the park, and he soon found himself being drawn in as well. He found himself drawn towards the white section, as he was wearing his customary white shirt and tie for work. I don’t even remember hearing anything about this issue, he thought, as he watched the two women argue on the stage. However, all the “Vote Yes on this or that Prop” signs did crowd each other out on the street corners. He must’ve not noticed.
The man began to look around at his fellow white shirters and it donned on him that he was supporting a railroad going up. Why?, he thought. Why would I want it to go up? The ragged woman made some good points. Hm. I wonder what to do. As the man thought that thought, someone tapped him on the shoulder. He turned and recognized the elderly gentleman, a popular news reporter for TRX News, Channel 7, immediately. “Can I ask you a few questions, sir?” the reporter asked. The man nodded unsurely as a cameraman turned his camera on.
The man followed the gentleman off to the side of the rally. The elderly gentleman was dressed in a nice suit, and his hair was slicked back, with an even part on the right side. He wasted no time.
“How do you feel this railroad will positively impact our community?” the reporter asked.
Uh, how do I get out of this?, the man thought.
“Well, I uh, feel that we will…see increased revenues and good business skills. For…it.” No. What did I just say?, the man thought. He caught the reporter glancing at the cameraman and they shared a look. An annoyed, unimpressed look.
“Well, thank you for your time, sir,” the reporter said.
The man looked up at the crowd, back to the annoyed, elderly reporter, and then thought to himself, this is why I never go to political rallies.
I love how he was unwillingly drawn into the situtation simply because of how he appeared (which happens so much in life, right?) Love the fact that he was forced to give an opinion, and the news commentators were disappointed at how "tame" it was.
ReplyDeletehow many of us are like the man in the white shirt? Probably a lot more than not.
Malto meal is a soggy experience. I could never eat very much of it. The story rings true to the partisanship that overlays so many issues (real issues) and how hard it is to intelligently deal with if that is the primary focus you're responding to.
ReplyDeleteYour description of driving to work was very apt. His near-mindlessness. How striking the juxtaposition of the milling rally-members and the man's part in their rally. He went from " the trip was such a routine that the man could practically do it in his sleep," to "He found himself drawn towards the white section, as he was wearing his customary white shirt and tie for work" to "What did I just say?" How often is my empty mind filled with something that I seemed to be pulled into willy-nilly, and before I know it I'm spouting off whatever I'm expected to say. Very disturbing in some ways.
ReplyDeleteGreat story! I love how ably you end a story with a thought-provoking ellipses.
I like how he wasn't thinking of anything-- and at the same time, he noticed the license plate in front of him, and the number of cans the homeless man had. Noticing nothing, yet noticing everything, too. Or maybe just noticing things that didn't really matter.
ReplyDeleteI also like how your story shows how sometimes we can be dragged into things, and THEN we find a reason for our opinion. Like, we decide to pick a side for no good reason and then try and decide why it is the right choice. I'd like to think that I make my decisions by first carefully weighing all my options... but often I don't.
I loved this line: "For…it." Haha!