Koobazaur's Domain

The bus sped away as I was making my way towards the stop. “Ha. Good thing I decided to bike instead.” The drizzle was a drizzle. Good thing indeed.

I guess it is true what they say – time does slow down when you are getting hit by a car.

The first half hour wasn’t bad, and I even managed to catch up with the bus a few times. “Eat that.” I hit the stop I was supposed to transfer at for a much longer ride, Rapid Red Line 704. It wasn’t here yet, and I figured, “what the hell, I had a big breakfast.” And so I pedaled on.

Drizzle, drizzle, sparkle, sparkle RAIN RAIN RAIN. “Ok, maybe I should have taken the bus instead. Hmm. I don’t quite recognize the street names but it’s alright, I know I’m going in the right direction. Yes, Sunset Blvd!” I was two blocks north of the street I need to be on, but that’s nothing for my bike and me. Just a few more streets west.

DOWNPOUR LIKE MAD. The jeans drenched by that point, not a comfortable feeling. Shoes squished as I pressed on the pedals. Something dripping from my backpack into my boxers. “Shit. This was a terrible idea. I hope the book I rented from the library is ok.” It wasn’t.

Finally, I reach the Starbucks.

— Intermission —

“Sir, I am sorry, these are safety rules of California.” I looked outside at the insane amount of gust and rain. “Sigh, my bike will not like waiting in that.” Luckily, I saw the roofed parking structure and chained it to some pole in there. “Now lets pray no one jacks it.” I made it to the bathroom and squeezed a good two cups of water out of my socks and gloves. My over-shirt was also soaked, so off it went. Nothing I could do about the jeans, those bastards hold onto moisture forever.

“Way to be professional Jakub.” And the meeting began.

Halfway I started losing focus. “I guess this is how I know I am no longer fat.” Chills started going through my body as every single inch of my wet skin was now evaporating, and the watered-down americano would need about a million suns in it to warm me up. I anxiously looked at my phone clock realizing two of the buttons no longer worked. “Crap. What else got damaged?”

Next plans set, hands shaken, and I was finally free.

—

Every movement brushing against the damp cold fabric reminded me how freezing I was. “One block east, one block north, then the bus stop. No more biking after that.” But it was a pleasant surprise; the repetitive contortions actually warmed me up, and the downpour was now back to a drizzle. Things were looking up. Or to be precise, to my left.

bump

“The fuck?”

Parked car to my right.

bump

Big white cube to my left.

bump

It took three bumps. Then just the white cube, parked car, the sky, pavement. Memory snapshot of the front bike tire halfway under the car. “Thank god it’s parked.” I get up. I CAN get up. “That is a good sign.” Someone yelled if I was okay, the white cube sped on, and I looked around. “Need to get off the street.” The chain was off. “Oh you did not just mess up my bike.” A few pedals forward it snapped back on. The handlebars were crooked. But it was going.

Few yards ahead the white cube of a van was standing still, and a big bulky fellow waved his hand. “Are you alright?” – “What the hell man!?” We went over the sequence of events. “I thought I gave you enough room.” Clearly, not. We stepped into a store to exchange numbers. Oh no. I stopped moving. No more friction. The chills were coming back, the new dampness was now evaporating. I squirmed. I didn’t have the mental faculties to care anymore, I just needed to get out. I gave him my card, snatch his paper, only thinking to wrap it in a plastic bag, and rode off to the bus stop as fast as I could.

Every time a car passed, my heart skipped a beat.

The gracious behemoth stopped just as I pulled in. “Thank god.” The little money-machine inside would not take my bill; it was too wet. “Thank god for quarters.”

I sat and waited. Freezing. Cold. Shocked. Miserable. I leered at the door; each time they opened, a deathly gust of wind reminded me of the slowly creeping in pneumonia.

“Just an hour and a half longer…”