The Contemporary Saints of Today: A Cabbie and My Computer Programming Roomate

I had to work at 630AM today. So you already know bad things are coming. I did not get up, as you may have very well guessed. I mean I did wake up...at 610. I was completely frazzled. The sight of me, scurrying around my room with my heart beating a million miles a minute, pulse ringing in my ear, and me encanting profanities and hopeful pleas to God, is truly an amusing thing to behold. So once I race out the door with most of what I needed, I check the bus schedule. There's one that comes at 615 to get me there by 645, but I really don't want to be late and it's already 615 and it's not there yet. In distress, I start...almost running in circles with frantic pacing. I see the cab, well, technically, the minivan with the work taxi magnetized to it. I go to him in deseration, and as Liam, and ask him how fast he can get me to Hollywood Studios. He claims ten minutes. I'm sold. But guess what I don't have. A wallet, and by wallet I mean the beat up, aquamarine blue-bordered Altoids tin holding my cards and money and everything. So I dash back to the apartment. But guess what I don't have...a key. I pound on the door with great fevor several times, the whole while pleading with my roomates to get up and open the door silently to myself. This is at 6 in the morning, mind you. So my saintly roomate, shout out to the unexplicably kind Evan (a computer programmer), opens the door rubbing his eyes. I thank him strongly. "No problem," he says confused and also as if he's going to faint from sleepiness. So I get upstairs and guess what I can't find? My wall-tin. Why? Because it's been in my pocket the whole time. I don't even have the time to be frustrated. I run back out the door.

So I get into the cab-van, and buckle up (good thing). The guy rips out of the place, much to my appreciation. He introduced himself saying that "they" called him O G; odd, because later he reveled his name to be Kevin. O G Kev drove like a madman and almost recked us about three or twelve times, knowing I was in a hurry. I wasn't complaining, in fact I was thanking God for giving me the worst cab driver ever.

We arrive at Hollywood Studios at 630 exactly. Amazed by: a) his timing and b) the fare ($20!), I pull out the tin. Guess what I don't have. Money. Granted, I had eight dollars in it, and I had left some leftover cash back at the apartment. I told him. He was shocked...no, mortified. I asked if I could pay him back some other time...no, pleaded. He took the eight dollars and got my contact inforomation. It was entirely too kind of him to not haul my sorry ass back where it belonged. I was so fortunate. Sorry, God. I meant to thank you for the best cab driver ever. I get out of the vehicle, after apologizing what had to be like a million times, and run off to work.

Now let me tell you about this run. I'm wearing cheapish cardboard dress shoes with sock that go about half way up the bottom of my foot because I picked a pair in a hurry. So as I run, the back of the shoe is tearing at the back of my heel/ankle (but they're Dr. Scholl's so I guess I'm gellin' as the blood trickles down my Achelies Heel). It sucks, but I just pretend it's not happening. Because if I don't act like I feel it, it's not real... I have the naviety of a two year old you'll soon realize. I actually clock in at 634, an amazing feat in my mind.

Work was fine, but a little boring. However, the shoes continue to rub up against the gash in my ankle and bloo seeps through the little amount of sock that is there. We actually sat around a lot of the time in the break room. I spent this time contemplating my humiliation and having a great time beating myself up with the audio of soap operas blaring in the background. I start thinking of the numerous ways in which to punish myself, and there was me again to back me up. "Ugh, we've been through this already. I thought you already discovered me, stupid...I mean...beautiful person... Okay, to reiterate, forgive yourself. Look, you were late and nothing happened. So you in debt to a cabbie. So what? He'll come around, what's he going to do? Refuse your money and punch you in the face? No. Calmarsi, ragazzo pazzo!...Be Te Dub, I love you. Catch ya later."

So work ends, and I get off the bus. I need to go to Wal-mart to get his money. Why? Because Wal-Mart is a magical gift from the Heavens, sent to give me the very air of joy(and heartache, poverty, and pain to small business owners, whom I send my sincerest condolances and apologizes). I text the cabbie to find out what ardous back alley meeting is going to have to go down in order to get this over and done with. He tells me no worries and that he'll be there same time tomorrow. Which, unfortunately, means I have to wake up at 630 to pay him even though I have work at 10 for once. But I guess that's karma. I suppose the world is just.

I wander around the store since I'm there, and I decide to give myself a treat since I've only been dying to have one since I got here. And what better place to get one, then at Wal-Mart. As I cross the bakery section, I see palm leaves and I get one. No, not the leaes from a tree, but a baked good. It's like a heart-shaped (I know, I don't get it either) crossiant with chocolate icing. Due to the name, I figure it's probably a Floridian delicacy. Probably not, but I'm not one to pass up an excuse to get a delicious-looking baked good (It's awesome. It will be a regular staple in my diet. Special trips will be made). My depreived sweet-tooth has been limited to a single roll of sugar cookie dough and put in exile otherwise and I will have no more of it.

After the store, I help a girl take her groceries back to her apartment and then go to Amanda's to chat for a bit with her and her roomates. I was illin' for some Frosty action from Wendy's, but I rememebered I had my palm leaves at home. Pause. I just overheard my roomates talking about how they're not big fans of the TV show Friends, but they love Frasier. I knew there was some deep underlying cause for not connecting with them.

So I've decided that no matter how horribly shitty a day can start, you can always turn it around. Because now I'm in a good mood and ready for tomorrow. Thanks to baked goods, random life blunders, and the everyday saints that God placed on the Earth.