One Hard Winter

The alarm clock screamed like a train whistle. I nearly hit the ceiling at the break in silence. Bolting out of my bed, I tripped and took a header into the carpet. I crawled on my stomach the remaining five feet and finally unplugged the alarm. The memories of the previous night’s escapades came to me in fragmented images of hazy disbelief. “What happened?” I asked myself. I forced myself up off the floor and looked around as if I was just waking in a foreign land. Wandering toward the shower, I stopped in the kitchen and turned the coffee pot on.

I had to get to work on time this morning since I’d been late the past two days. It was six in the morning and that gave me two hours to shower, shave, dress and drive half an hour to work. There wasn’t a force mighty enough to keep me from being on time, not even the many varieties of fine liquors and beers that were still swashing around in my regretful gullet.

It was a quarter to seven when I trudged out the front door. The snow was overwhelming. The air was horridly bitter. My mood was fading to black as I shoveled what seemed to be ten feet of snow off my car. I despised my car, but it was all I could afford at the time. The radio didn’t work so I had a portable radio resting on the passenger seat. The headlights functioned at their own will. To keep the headliner from obstructing the rear window, I had unloaded a clip of heavy duty staples into the ceiling. The cruise control was out of control and I only used it when I was feeling invincible. Amazingly enough, the cigarette lighter still worked. I sat behind the wheel wondering about my life, how friends had strayed, how plans had failed, how dreams had died.

At 720 I finally left the driveway. My mind began to race as I pulled out onto the snow-covered country road. There was no way I was getting to work on time, not with the roads like ice. I punched my steering wheel a couple of times to vent my frustrations. I take pride in the fact that I’ve never been fired from any of the jobs I've worked. I didn’t want to get fired from that one either. I popped a cigarette in my mouth, reached down, and pulled out the ashtray and cigarette lighter unit from beneath the useless radio. Letting loose a line of vulgarity that would have made my truck driver, ex-sailor, father proud, I pushed the cigarette lighter in. As I pushed the lighter in, the entire ashtray unit busted off it’s hinges and sent weeks worth of ash and butts everywhere. A cloud of ash rose from the floor like a volcano. Temporarily blinded, I locked up the brakes and drifted slowly into the nearest snow bank.

I was furious. I rubbed my eyes aggressively and envisioned myself getting out of the car and breaking every window. I was going to walk back to my house and return with a can of gas, a box of matches, and a bag of marshmallows. But I didn’t even get out of the car. When my vision returned, I sat stunned. When I couldn’t hold it in for any longer, I let loose. The laughter was unbearable, uncontrollable, and down right refreshing. I couldn’t breathe. For some reason, I just couldn’t stop laughing. The ashtray unit was swinging just above the floor by a thick wire when suddenly the cigarette lighter popped up in the ready position. My hysterics went on for another twenty minutes. I never made it to work that day. I went home, chuckled over a cup of coffee, and went back to sleep. It was the most relaxing sleep of my life. I don't know exactly what happened to me but something inside me changed. Since that day, anytime I have a flat tire, or when I’m running late for work, or when the hardships of life come at me from all different degrees, I just can’t help but laugh.