Meander
Have you ever had one of those days where you feel like you’ve just meandered through that other dimension, you know the one. It starts off with a low hum, background noises become the audible forefront and you begin to feel a little high. A little buzzed. The TV echoes talk show applause followed by laughter past the streaks of morning sun breaking through the blinds.
Please tell me I didn’t just hear some guy comparing the circumference of his penis to that of a cheese wheel. I refuse to be drawn in by that, but now I seem focused on the removal of whatever look on my face was induced by the cheese wheel situation. Surely I have stuff to do…but do I dare? So I continue about meandering small tasks, intent on shining the light of my now distracted state of mind unto the world outside.
Trying to ignore the evidence of atmospheric instability, I was compelled to move through it. At some point I took my eye off the ball, and was veered off track. I found myself strolling through some huge hobby shop, apparently absent of the fact I have no hobbies. Something smells kinda like sawdust, which reminds me of my Uncle’s old barn, which reminds me of how much I miss the sound of an entire field of crickets chirping the night away, which reminds me of running through those fields with my cousin, who had hobbies and used to have an ant farm. That’s a hobby, right? I have one somewhere, but I hate ants so I’ve been saving it for that perfect re-gifting opportunity to come along…for about 20 years now.
Here comes some young guy complete with a crooked name badge. Please tell me he’s not humming quietly to the beat of his own footsteps. He’s staring at me, eagerly anticipating eye contact but now I am focused on wiping my face clean from the ‘quietly humming to the beat of his own steps’ situation. Maybe if he took the iPod out of his ears, it would help things. Not to mention it’s just adding to the background noise factor already in progress. The hum of the intercom overhead crackled, someone’s breaking through the static to page assistance to the help counter. How funny. Assistance…to the help counter. The corner of my eye shifts it’s attention. Shit, he’s still on the slow humming approach, three or four feet at a time. I feel strangely hunted. I’ll need to distract him. So I turn to him, and in mid hum he stops frozen, attempts to compose himself, and asks if he could be of assistance. How much you wanna bet he’s the one their paging back to the help counter.
The rehearsed delivery of his words were a dead give away. So, too…were the obvious reasons not to let this guy wander off too far. I thought of my Uncle’s barn and running through the fields and so on, so I said “Yeah…I have this ant farm, and I’d like to know if I can trade it in for a field of crickets?”. I waited for him to bust out at least a chuckle, some sort of sign that he got the joke. He stared at me so long, the sound of a thousand crickets began to fill in the void like a commercial in my head. Finally, he announces that he’ll be right back and begins the journey down the aisle to the beat of his own song. It was like watching him play hopscotch without the squares. Where the hell is he going? Surely he understood the irony and sarcasm in my virtual quest for the unobtainable.
Now I wondered what look has descended upon this face of mine, and could it be repaired? Probably not, so in a sudden move of haste and the need to escape, I decided it would be best if I just left. I could barely contain the light hearted laughter that dwells beneath. The day’s not over, the background hum is still there, I still feel high, so I have to ditch the help counter guy. I head casually for the exit, and of course it loomed at me. Then I see him, over by the help counter, fumbling with the intercom attached to his waist. The automatic doors swished open and the outside air headed in like a breezeway, and through the noise of the busy street in front of me I could hear his voice. Please tell me I didn’t just hear him radioing in…for help. And then I hear him, clear as day all the way outside “I know there’s 12 in a dozen, and I know how many is in a 100 pack…but they need a field and I need to know how many equals a field…”
For the remainder of my meandering day, the verbal antics of the world around me continued to poke at the surface of absurd. Strange happenings and peculiar sounds ruled my world. My face was undone so many times that it still hurt the next morning. So…with that said, by the third cup of coffee, I had the ant farm packaged and ready to go. I hope my cousin likes it.
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