Of Course It Didn't Really Happen: Serenity Now

 

Mariah Loves Earth. Sky High. 2023

I stare out the windshield at the winding road of cars stretching into the distance. As the cars start and stop the line ripples like a centipede. Except, it moves at a snail's pace. I groan and glance at my rear-view mirror. The guy behind me is clearly smoking a fat blunt. “Hey man,” I think, “It may be legal, but not for driving.” But let’s be real, we’re going to be stuck in this traffic for at least another 60 minutes and I doubt he’s too doped up to drive 10 km/hr. 

Light obscures my vision. About 20 minutes ago, the sun began to creep over the foggy mountains. Day break really is beautiful in Vancouver. I get to bask in the fullness of the moment six days a week as I sit in the morning rush hour traffic.

It’s not all bad, I’ve had a lot of time to self-reflect. For example, I often wonder why I accept that I’m spending the amount of hours equivalent to 26 days of the year stuck in traffic. That’s more days than the total amount I get off for both vacation and sick time. To add to it, I don’t even get paid to drive to work! 

I don’t always start the day grumpy, but by the time I’m in traffic I sure am feeling it. But of course, it’s a nice time of day to have my steaming hot mug of java. I never worry about spilling it because the traffic goes so goddamn slow. 

I glance back again. That guy's music is so loud I can hear it with my windows rolled up. It’s that popular new style of music that talks about gadgets I’ve never used and that has slang that doesn’t make any sense. I catch my reflection in the mirror. It’s 7:03 AM and my eyes still don’t look awake. My lids have started to droop over the years, and my hair is thinning a bit, but I’m still a handsome guy. At least I think I am. “No, no! Are you serious!? Don’t cut me off,” exasperated, I throw my arms in the air. The traffic has always been bad, but I swear that drivers are getting worse.

I look into the sky and my eyes follow the whizz of the automated hover cars. I’ve heard that they’ve been calling them “the Northern Lights of the Lower Mainland.” It’s a fancy way of making the wealth gap cool. Rapidly whipping by, they are a blur of metallic blues, whites, silvers, and reds. I remember when I was younger you’d see some rich Vancouverite in some fancy sports car and you’d get pleasure from the fact that he was still stuck in the same traffic as you and your beater. I'm a Surrey guy myself and I can say that pleasure is long gone. Them teenage “Richie Riches”  really shove it in your face now. I can just imagine them sippin’ their champagne looking down on all us plebs and laughing. I grip my steering wheel a little tighter and I notice my knuckles begin to go white. “Shit! My doctor said I have to keep my blood pressure down,” I think and begin to internally chant, “Serenity now, serenity now, serenity now.”

I’m just waiting for that shower beer after work. Nothing like a nice cold one in a hot shower. I picture the condensation glistening on the shiny silver can. My mouth begins to water just thinking about it. It’s like that Homer guy from that TV show where he opens his mouth and drool starts to pour out. I can’t help but laugh at the thought.

Honking snaps me out of my daze. I look behind me. “Are you serious?,” I think while frowning into the rear-view mirror. It’s that guy with the blunt. I drive forward a foot. I don’t imagine he’s in a rush. He flips me the bird. KA-BOOM! My hands automatically cover my ears, but the sound has stopped as quickly as it started. Frantically my eyes search for the source. Sirens immediately start droning. In my rear-view mirror I can see that a hover car has fallen from the sky and crushed Blunt Guy. I always heard about it in the news, but never seen it in person. But hey, you might as well kill two birds with one stone. A wave of satisfaction comes over me. One step closer to serenity now.