This morning I missed my bus, and was late for work. Because of this, I did something I have never done before, although I was aware of its possibly thanks to google maps. There is a shorter route from the bus stop to work, but it involves walking along some train tracks for about a quarter of a mile, and then sliding down a 25-foot embankment. Today, being late and all, I took the path less traveled, the railway path.
I think I have mentioned before that I work in an office park, and that the majority of the population of the office park work for a large collection agency. I have some issues with the agency, mostly regarding their decision to heavily market themselves. When they moved into the office park a few months ago, they added two giant flagpoles to the soil beside their parking lot. One for their flag, and one for Old Glory. Prior to the mass immigration of the collection agency workers, I was the only person in the office park who used public transportation to get there. Because of this I walked across that parking lot many times, four times a day in fact, because I also walk that way to lunch. This being the case, I was very familiar with the goings on as the collection agency’s then future home was being refurbished, and the flagpoles were planted.
The day the poles were placed in the ground there were a number of surveyors and hardhat types milling around the parking lot. I feel it is important to tell you this because of what I perceive to be a slight difference in height between the two poles, and since there is a difference, and there were so many pole technicians in the lot the day they were planted, one can only deduce that the difference is intentional. The collection agency’s flag appears to fly just a few inches above the US flag, which, from what I remember my third grade teacher telling me, is strictly illegal.
Although I am bothered by this, the reason I won’t divulge the name of the collection agency relates to my fears that Bush might bomb the fuck out of them for it, and despite my misgivings, I know that many of the people under that flag, are completely innocent of the company’s transgression. I was thinking about this the other night as I walked by the windows of their building, about how otherwise decent and honorable people, through no fault of their own, wind up through circumstances completely beyond their control in miserable jobs in which all they do is sit there and have people talk shit to them all day.
I have had little to talk about with these people other than asking them how long they had been waiting for the return flight of the 34e at the bus stop and so forth, but today, as I waited for the train to pass so that I might walk along the tracks without a conductor accusing me of trespassing I noticed that beside me stood a gentleman from the collection agency, who intended to travel along the tracks as I did. We waited then for the train to fill with her commuters, and as it rolled slowly into motion, it was impossible to betray the excitement welling within myself as I came to the realization that I was soon to trespass along the lair of a hundred ton giant, and that her iron path would soon be laid out exclusively for my use. Well, exclusively for my use and the man from the collection agency. It probably goes without saying, the most exhilarating part was when we crossed Route One.
At the end of the trip along the tracks, the man from the collection agency, who had made the journey many times previously, showed me the safest way down the embankment. I felt like I had fallen from the sky.
I think I will always go this way in the future for several reasons:
1. The feeling of camaraderie with the hitherto [O]ther eclipses my own feelings of alienation.
2. The trespassing aspect brings back memories of stealing apples from the Academy of the New Church’s secret orchard. Note to Pitcairns, I live in Montreal now.
3. It’s three tenths of a mile shorter than my old route.
4. Makes me feel rugged and tough.
You may suspect that this is something of a parable intended to shed light on the current wars, but I am afraid that if you are thinking that, you are wrong. I am not into parables or little stories, because they are condescending, and I am well aware that all three of my readers are brighter than I am.
Plus, if I were to write something like that it would most likely involve a family of rabbits who worked in a foundry. For some reason the idea of rabbits working in a foundry has always sparked a vague political sentiment in me, that at times I’ve thought could change the world, but I just couldn’t find the words to express that sentiment purposefully enough to garner populist support.
Are you counting me as a reader. That’s brings you at least up for 4 right?
Seriously, I’m reading this daily!