A close call

A bird kept singing at my window. As I listened to its sweet sound, I slowly opened my eyes to realize that the sun was already out. Well, it had been out! It was nearly 8 o’clock.

My alarm did not go off. I was certain I had set it the night before. I knew this, for sure. I had organized my tote, selected, and arranged my clothes, hung them in the closet, and polished my shoes. Setting the alarm was the last step before turning off the light. This was my routine.

“Something must have gone wrong, then,” I thought for a moment. I glance to the left fo my nightstand to look at the radio I occasionally set as a backup alarm. It was blinking.

Ah ha! There must have been a power outage last night. This explains it. Without wasting any time, I jump out of bed and rush to the bathroom, to get ready.

This was the big day. The day for my second interview. I wanted this position and I had prepared for it.  This time, I was set to meet with the rest of the team. Their opinion of me and how I might fit in this new role were key in being offered the position.

On my way to the bathroom, I grab my clothes hanging in the closet and place them neatly on the bed and head back to the bathroom.

As soon as I turn on the light, I take a quick peak at the mirror.

“Gosh, I look awful!” I say to myself. I looked like I had partied all night. My face was a mess! I could have used a few more hours of sleep. My reflection from the mirror showed dark circles under my eyes, sticky hair, but oh well... This was me, unprepared for the big day.

Rather than dwelling too much on it, I grab my toothbrush, while trying to fix my hair with a bit of water. It was cold. Since the hot water was taking its sweet time to start running, I also decided to get the water running in the shower. Brushing my teeth while in the shower was common practice when I was running late. So, I planned to do just that. But not so fast.  

As I pull the curtains, I see a huge, hairy bug on the floor. It seemed to be taking a nap. I wasn’t 100 percent sure. Rather than stepping in the shower and trying to move it with some water, I think of another strategy: scare it away with something else, to make sure it is really gone.  

Instead of getting in, I gently pull back the curtain, turn around to get some toilet paper. This is when I noticed another bug right behind the toilet. In a haste, I run out to the kitchen, to get the big broom in the pantry.

“That should scare and chase them away,” I thought.

When I return in the bathroom, armed with my weapon, I first look around the toilet. There was no bug at sight. When I pull the shower curtain, the other one had also disappeared. Not knowing where they had gone, I decide that it was now safe to take a quick shower.

By now, the toothpaste in my mouth had been mostly swallowed with saliva. My mouth felt minty, but I still needed to brush my teeth. I quickly rinse my mouth and take a cold shower.

Little did I know what would come next.

The steam was coming out of the shower. The water was burning hot! While I normally enjoyed taking hot showers, I gently pull the curtain to get in. I had to be super quick, two minutes maximum. As soon as I finish, I reach for my towel and notice that the hairy bug was there, on top of the rack where I had my bathrobe.

I had to do something. Run out naked and quickly out of the shower or do something about this insect. I did not like bugs. I was scared of them but had to muster the courage to remove it. How though?

Without thinking twice, I pour some cold water on it. To my biggest surprise, the bug does not move an inch at my first attempt. Then, all of a sudden, it flies straight towards me.

Surprised and frightened by it, I run out of the bathroom, screaming and dripping on the wet floor. The irony of the situation was that there was no one to hear, nor rescue me. I lived alone.

Since no one could see me either—my bathroom windows and the ones from my bedroom faced a wall—I rush to the kitchen to push the button on the coffeemaker. In a haste, I did not realize that there was already some from the day before, so I decide to simply reheat that, while drying myself and getting dressed.

After getting dressed, I walk back in the bathroom. I slowly walk in, while inspecting every corner of the room, from the floor to the ceiling, the sink, the shower curtain, and around the toilet. The coast looked clear, again: the bugs seemed to be gone. At least they were out of sight, at least for the time being.

When I finally manage to put on some makeup, twenty precious minutes had already passed.

This is when the inevitable happened. My clumsy and shaking hands spill some coffee on the blouse I had just put on. I had just picked it up from the cleaners the day before!

The contrast between the cream color blouse and the brown stain was too noticeable and I did not want to take any chances at looking sloppy at my second interview. I decide to change my top, but with what? In my closet, nothing seems to match the outfit I had planned to wear. I had forgotten that all my nice blouses were left at dry cleaners.

“Oh well, I will settle for a different outfit then,” I said to myself.

Looking through my closet, I could only find one blouse that looked “sort of” right for an interview. The only thing about it was that it made me look serious, too serious even, and intimidating. As they say, first impressions are everything.

Not wanting to be judged the wrong way, I look for another outfit, while keeping a close eye on my watch. It was ticking too fast. Time was running and I had to be out of the house within the next ten minutes.

At the door, with keys and tote in hand, mom calls. She remembered the interview and wanted to wish me good luck. I leave my apartment and start walking towards the elevator.

My neighbor, the one who always stared me down, says “Hello.” I guess I was either too loud on the phone or he could notice that I looked different from other mornings.

This is when it occurred to me that I had not locked my apartment door. So, I rush back. Two additional minutes are lost in this.   

“I can do this,” I keep saying myself.

I was ready and just needed to get to my appointment. I had however few options left, considering the time I had wasted at home. I could drive. That was within my reach, but I wanted to have a few minutes to review some important data on the company, the recruiting department, and its performance—just in case I get asked.

The other option was to get on the subway. The only problem with that was that it required to change three stations down. Not knowing how the lines were running, and not wanting to overthink it at this point, I called an Uber. From the app, I could see that there was many driving in my neighborhood. This was a good sign. After a few clicks, I receive a beep confirming that my ride was on his way.

“Great! It is happening. Now calm down, you can do this,” I remind myself.

When the Uber driver pulls in, it was no other than Marsha, the wife of the bike repair guy, down the street. She was making rounds as an Uber driver. I had no idea it was her. The license plate and name that appeared on the app when my ride was confirmed did not mean a thing to me. I just wanted to get going.  

She had dropped off the kids at school and had a few hours allowing her to work. This was her way to make extra income for her family.

When I get in, I can’t help smelling freshly baked bread and a hint of eggs and sausage. She was having breakfast in the car.

As she drives off, she asked me: “It’s been one of those mornings. Do you mind if I finish my sandwich?”

I could not prevent her from doing so, so I said: “Sure, go ahead. Don’t mind me. I am going to read this document.” I was being polite, while I feared the smell of her breakfast mixing with my cologne.

“You look fancy today! Something special going on at work?” she asked, looking at me from the rearview mirror.

I did not want to get into the interview thing, so I simply replied: “A big client is coming to see us, and I need to do a presentation.”

“I see. That’s nice! I wonder what it is like to work in a big company.”

I smiled back and pulled some papers from my tote, signaling that I did not want to talk any further.  

As we enter main streets, we both notice the traffic ahead of us. The cars started driving bumper to bumper.

“What’s going on?” I said.

“Dunno. Looks like there's police activity ahead so everyone is driving slowly.”

“Not today, people. I need to get going. I have an appointment in half an hour.”

“We should be able to make it. Don’t worry. Let me try to get on another route.”

“Thank you, I appreciate that.”

As we make a left at the light, another car suddenly swerved in front of us, causing Marsha to slam on the brakes. The sound of the horn blaring from the car behind us fills the air. Looking at it, my heart sunk.

The sudden jolt from the abrupt stop sent my papers flying across the back seat. For a moment, chaos reigned inside the small confines of Marsha's car. The scent of eggs and sausage was now mixed with the sharp tang of adrenaline.

Marsha apologized profusely as she tried to regain her composure, her hands shaking slightly on the wheel. "That was so close," she muttered, glancing at me through the rearview mirror with wide eyes.

I nodded, trying to collect my scattered documents, my hands trembling as well as I realized the gravity of what could have happened. "It's okay," I reassured her, though my voice was anything but steady. "Just a close call."

As we continued on our detour, the traffic seemed to conspire against us, turning what should have been a clear path into a labyrinth of detours and delays. Marsha's attempts to find a quicker route were met with roadblocks and more detours, each turn taking us further from my destination.

The clock on the dashboard seemed to tick louder with each passing minute, mocking the urgency of my situation. "I'm really sorry about this," Marsha said, her voice tinged with guilt. "I thought this shortcut would help, but it looks like we're not the only ones trying to avoid the main road."

Just when it seemed like things couldn't get any worse, the skies opened up, and a torrential downpour reduced visibility to a few feet. I did not check the weather. This was an addition to the situation I was facing.

Marsha slowed to a crawl, the windshield wipers working overtime. "Of all the days for a storm," I muttered, checking the time on my phone. The minutes were slipping away, and with them, my chances of making it to the interview on time.

In a twist of fate, as we turned onto a side street, we came across a small parade, a local tradition that I had completely forgotten about. The street was lined with people, and children ran back and forth, waving flags and cheering. Marsha let out a small laugh, the tension easing from her shoulders. "You've got to be kidding me," she said, the absurdity of the situation bringing a smile to her face.

I couldn't help but join in her laughter, the stress of the morning making the unexpected roadblock seem almost comical. "Well, I guess this is one way to make sure I'll never forget this meeting," I said, trying to find some humor in the predicament.

As we sat there, trapped by the parade, the rain, the earlier traffic, and the bugs, I realized that sometimes, despite our best efforts, life has its own plans. And perhaps, just perhaps, this was the universe's way of telling me to take a breath and watch the parade go by.

A brass band passes right next to the car. I hear a horn blowing right in my ears. It was the sound of my alarm. I wake up to realize it was a dream. The interview was not happening today, it was scheduled for the end of the week.