Stuck in Traffic
he all too familiar city streets stretch out like old pieces of chewing gum that have become stale
with time. The songs on the radio have all been heard before, time and time again. It does not matter
because the passengers demand something to break the monotony of the ride. They sit apart looking out
the window, reading newspapers, or thinking of what to have for dinner. The seats are close enough to
warrant alienation from others. There are times when strangers engage in meaningless conversations, but
most of the time interaction is related to familiarity. Yet the silence would be painful to listen to. It
would only resonate the loneliness of the drive.
Roy Johnston glances at his panoramic rear view mirror to view this day�s passengers. Near the front is one of the regulars of the route and behind her are three others, unfamiliar to him. A large woman sits by the front door to the right of the bus. She has thick, brown uncombed hair, shooting out like bristles on a worn down broom. Lines surround her eyes and cheeks. The dress she wears, clings snugly over her obese body. Her large arms lay motionless on her lap like two sleeping cats. A man in a business suit sits at the middle-left side of the bus. His hair, once finely combed, is now a disarray. The tie around his neck has been loosened and the top button undone. One hand grips a briefcase tightly as the other rubs his temple and forehead during thought. The other two sit at the back together. They are a young male and female pair with hopeful aspirations gleaming in their faces. They talk to each other once and a while but mainly look out the window into the vast world that is relatively unknown to them.
As the day goes on, Roy sees more of the familiar and the unacquainted. At the end of the shift, he returns to the station. Roy lugs out of the chair formed to his contour and inspects the bus. He finds a couple of newspapers, a hair clip, a few pennies, and a busted ink pen. The pen broken in half had discharged its contents on a seat. Roy looks in disgust and animosity. �This is great,� thinking to himself. �Another purposely made mess to make my job a little more fun.� With an old rag and a cleaning spray, Roy wipes up the blotch of ink.
After turning in the keys and clocking out, Roy leaves the station and goes home in his gruff, dent-riddled, Volkswagen bug.
The next morning, Roy awakens from his agitated slumber. He squints his eyes at the alarm clock to see the time. It is six minutes before the alarm was to go off. Roy puts on his glasses and tags the off button on the clock to make sure the alarm did not sound. He gets up and immediately fixes his bed. Stumbling to the sink of his bathroom, Roy washes his face and takes a shot of mouthwash, sloshing it around his mouth. In the mirror he sees an aging man with just another day ahead of him. His curly gray hair swirls like a maelstrom covering a world with desperate blue eyes and an unhappy grin. Closer to the mirror Roy moves, searching for something deeper within himself. Nearer and nearer he focuses. With a flick of his hand, he removes a protruding nose hair with a pair of tweezers. Taking a step back, Roy scans his body and grabs his overhanging gut. Roy gives a grunt and heads to the kitchen where the automatic coffee machines starts up with a whistle. He fixes himself a cup of Joe and moves to the living room containing a couch, a small TV, a large bookshelf, and an old wooden coffee table. On the top of the bookshelf and TV are bottled ships of various sizes. Sitting comfortably in his couch, Roy grabs the remote control and turns on the TV.
�Hell, isn�t there anything on but ugly women and their talk shows?� he loudly asks himself. �I�ve gotta get ready for work anyway.�
�Howdy Roy.�
�Hello,� Roy replies glumly.
�Hey buddy, where�s your enthusiasm? You know, Cindy has your bus right now. Maybe this is your chance to strike up a little conversation on the switch over. She thinks you�re cute and what you do with them ships is cool.�
�What? That�s a barrel of crap.�
�Seriously. She told me so. Man, buddy, she has your number and it starts with the letter �s�, if you get what I�m sayin�.�
Roy nods his head without a hint of a smile. �I�m not the Harley type anyway. She wouldn�t go for me.�
�Yeah, well, maybe or maybe not.�
With a despondent look, Roy turns to face Ed. �I haven�t been with a woman in twenty years. I mean not just in that way, but in a way where I can hold her close and smell her perfume, comfortable enough not to speak to each other and enjoy some silence.�
�Whoa, stop right there big boy. It�s great that you want romance but romance is d-e-A-d. For guys our age, in our position, and in the time we live, we need to swing it. We�re beyond Romeo but we ain�t old and crippled. We�re almost there, I have a few more years in me, but still, we�re close. So, at this point in our lives, we need to have a hoe-down, helluva time.�
Sulking even more with a defeated look, Roy says to Ed, �But, I don�t think I can� swing it.�
�You mean, you can�t�ummm�
�No!!! I mean I don�t think I know how to have fun anymore.�
�Oh, buddy, I�m sorry. Look, have you been to the mall lately?�
�No. I hate malls. They�re too crowded.�
�That�s the premier place to pick up on the ladies. They range from single mothers to them wild teenyboppers. I�m sure you can find a real nice gal for ya�. Just look in one of those cutesy gift shops, but I prefer one of those loud rock-n-roll clothing stores.�
�Ed, you�re sick. Get off of this couch right now, you�you sicko.�
�That�s why you love me. Well, it�s time for our shifts in our love cruisers. Oh, are ya� going to the bar tonight. Coors light pitchers will be on sale.�
�Nah, not tonight. I don�t feel like it.�
�Alright, I�ll see ya� at the end of this glorious day.�
A few days later Roy wanders into the mall. There are couples holding hands, moms and dads trying to control their children, hovering survey takers, and roving bands of punks.
�I hate unruly kids, punkers, and especially survey takers. What the hell am I doing here?�
Finding his way through the crowds, Roy happens upon a small clothing store filled with attractive people. He takes a deep breath and looks around. He cautiously avoids the male greeters and walks straight to a stand of ties where a nice looking female happens to be.
�Hello sir, can I help you with anything?�
�Huh? Help me with what?� He makes eye contact with the girl and immediately looks down to the floor.
�With a tie or any other clothing item we have.�
Timidly, Roy raises his eyes using her thin but sinewy legs, perfect hips, gentle arms and svelte neck as a guide to her innocent pink lips. �Uh, no, I�m all right thanks.�
Her lips part, slowly and gracefully, �Well, if you need anything, any one of us can help.� She smiles a flawless smile and walks off to help another customer. Roy then glances over to the ties and grabs one. He lumbers over to the girl and the customer.
�I don�t mean to interrupt but how does this look on me?�
�It looks really good,� she answers. �Now if you will excuse me.� She turns her back, giving a smile to the other customer.
Roy looks down at the tie, limp in his hand. Without warning, Roy grabs the girl�s arm tightly and swings her around.
�Do you think putting little ships in bottles is cool or even sexy?�
�Ow, God! Let go of me,� she yelped with terror.
With that shrill, Roy releases his grip and steps back with shame and humiliation. �I�I�m sorry,� he states looking to the floor. �I�m sorry.�
Roy is tossed back out by two strong men into the rush of herding people.
�Look at these hot shots in their sports cars. They�re gonna get in a wreck if they keep driving like loaded maniacs. What�s the rush anyway?�
�Zoom fast, zoom past,� says an old black gentleman. �Wantin� to live.� He has large eyes of a nocturnal animal. Around his neck is a red silk scarf and he wears a silver nylon shirt and black slacks. Roy talks to this man once in a while for all the weird but interesting things he says.
�Nah, probably late for a date or something. Holy Cow!!!,� Roy screams as he slams on the breaks and barely misses a speeding truck full of laughing teens that had rudely cut in front of the bus. A gasp is heard throughout the bus.
�Goddamn! Will those little bastards ever learn? One of these days I�ll plow right into them. I almost didn�t stop too. Hell, my brakes must be malfunctioning or something. If I was going over fifty, I wouldn�t have been able to stop. Can you believe that crap?�
�Zoom fast, zoom past. Runnin� from death.�
The rest of the evening is calm. The sky swirls blue and red with the falling sun. The shift is almost over for Roy. He pulls over to the bus stop in front of the hospital. A blonde woman in dark glasses steps into the bus. Her hair flows down to her back like a golden waterfall. Her clothes elegantly wrap around her perfect body. Bruises horridly mark her face and a cast on her forearm hangs heavily.
�Helen! What happened to you?�
�My husband�s closed fist and Italian leather shoes.�
�Have you called the police?�
�Yes. They said it was self defense. We got in a little fight, that broke out to be more than that, so I tried to kill him with a fireplace poker. He beat me trying to get it. I wouldn�t let go.�
�That bastard. I can�t believe they can let him get away with this. I�ve known you for three years and I know we just talk on the bus, but I consider you a friend. I don�t think you should stay with him. Hell, I�ll talk to him and maybe teach him a little about respect.�
�You�re a sweetie. But don�t worry about me. I�ll be staying with a friend. Eventually, he�ll apologize and it�ll be good, for awhile.�
�Do you want to go back?�
�That�s how it is. This is my stop. It�s always nice when we talk. Bye.� She carefully walks off the bus. She turns and waves, then continues down the block as Roy pulls down the street.
�It�s really not fair,� Roy thinks to himself.
�Goddamn! I hate this,� screams Roy as he honks his horn.
Roy calls the station on the CB radio notifying he will be in late and might have to take an alternate route. Squirming in his chair, Roy becomes stressfully impatient with the situation. �Yeah, I said their day would come. Yeah, Yeah�I said they needed to slow down.� Nervously, he rubs his forehead. �I can�t believe that bastard put his wife into the hospital. What kind of sicko is he? I hate not being able to do anything about it. I�ve got to get the hell out of this jam!� Roy then stabs the pedal and cuts across the standstill gang of cars. People honk and cuss at him as he makes it to the turn lane unobstructed by the wreck.
�I�m gonna talk to the bastard. I might even punch him in the face. He�s gonna pay and pay big. He�s gonna have to mess with Roy Johnston!�
He turns with a screech and eyes a two story house at the end of a street. He keeps his heavy foot on the pedal as if it were someone�s throat. An inferno rages through his body, as his heart pounds with furious pace. Closer and closer the house comes to view. He crosses an intersection without stopping or even slowing down and pulls into the circle drive. Roy slams his breaks that do not work at the most crucial time. The bus skims off the drive , barrels across the front porch, through the double doors and into the living room. Impact.
The hospital lights shine brightly on Roy. Out from his nose, mouth, and various openings in his plaster encased body are wires and tubes connected to machines. One machine contains a bag with morphine that drips happiness into his body. The pain is gone.
*
A voice from his peripheral sings into the quiet room. �Hi sweetie.� Helen and a stranger, a handsome man, come into view, blocking the TV. �My husband is dead. He was crushed between your bus and the fireplace in my living room. It was declared an accident, so don�t worry. Besides it�s a lot less trouble for me. This is the friend I told you about. We�re going to Paris for awhile to forget about this mess. I hope you feel better. Good luck with everything. Bye sweetie.� They leave and Roy shuts his eyes. He wonders how she could be so shallow. Yet, Roy feels that it is not a reason to become angry , and he closes his eyes to dream.
�Hey, aren�t you excited to see me,� asks Cindy. Roy replies with an unintelligible grumble. �Well, fine. But gimme a call sometime when you�re up and walking around. I bet you can show me a real good time you daredevil.� Uninterested and annoyed with her boisterous sexuality, Roy tries again to fall asleep, but this time he aids himself with a push of a button for the machine to deliver medicine into his bloodstream. He falls asleep before Cindy has left the room.
Two indistinguishable days later, Ed walks into the room and stands next to the bed. Roy shifts his eyes to meet Ed�s.
�Howdy, Roy.�
�Hi,� whispers Roy.
�Man, I�ve been by a few times but you�ve been out like a light. I�ve spoken to the doc and he says you�ll recover fine. You might be walking with a cane or something but he said there wasn�t any brain damage. So that�s good. We all miss you at the station, though you may not have a job anymore. Don�t worry, I think the boss is gonna give you your disability. It was their damn fault for not fixing those breaks like they�re supposed to. Not too many people ride the buses anymore, which increases traffic. It�s become hell out there. So when you get better, we need to go out on a brannigan. There�s a pitcher of the silver bullet out there for you.� Roy gives a thumbs up with his right hand. �Oh, man, forget about the mall, this place is hot. Nurses, nurses, nurses�makes me wish I was sick. I�d love a sponge bath. Must be nice. Well buddy, get your sleep. I�ll see you soon.� Ed pats him on the shoulder and leaves.
The room is quiet except for the occasional blip of a machine. He filters out the sound and closes his eyes in silence. Roy takes a deep, relieving breath and remembers the dull days of self pity and worthlessness. He wanted a beautiful woman to love, excitement, and passionate abandon. Roy decided to change everything with a noble and blind deed. Yet all in is his life is the same or even worse. Nothing seems to be for the best, but Roy lies in his bed relaxed. Roy realizes though he may not have the fast cars, the elegant women, and the expensive thrills; he still has his delicately made bottled ships, tasty beer, and a good friend. Enjoying the tranquillity of the room, he smiles.
