Inspiration 2.0

[Motorboat Cruiser]

Well, until we have a new subject, here is another submission (in two parts).

Michael pulled ten dollars from his wallet and handed it to the clerk. In exchange, he received an orange slip of paper and wishes of good luck. He folded the paper carefully so that it would fit into the watch pocket of his jeans.

“This is my ticket out of here”, he proudly exclaimed.

“Wouldn’t that be something”, the clerk replied, smiling. “You could buy this store and I could retire early.”

Michael laughed as he exited the store. “Considering the frequency of my visits, I should already be a part-owner”.

Of course, deep down, both men knew that the odds of him winning were smaller than Zeus himself pitching a perfect strike of lightning and hitting Michael square between the eyes. Still, each ticket represented another chance, a chance at a better life to be exact. He looked towards the heavens, just to be sure that the bullpen hadn’t been called but the sky was clear as usual. Clouds were a rarity in the summer months of Los Angeles, as was a cool breeze.

“Damn this heat”, Michael muttered to nobody in particular. Waiting tables in this heat had not been particularly pleasant at the upscale outdoor café where he worked, one of the dozens that lined the street. It wasn’t the dream job by any means, just a stepping-stone. At least that is what he told himself. Some days though, he felt like it was his only future, a sad realization for someone approaching 30. Life moved far too quickly for his liking and it didn’t help that the acting jobs were starting to dry up. He felt older than his 28 years, old and exhausted.

He walked slowly down Melrose, past the rows of stores and boutiques that, like most of his fellow pedestrians, he could never justify patronizing, not with his humble earnings. Michael wondered why anyone would ever purchase a shirt that cost more than he made in a week. Still, he couldn’t help but be entertained by the colorful store names, places like “Retail Slut” that could only exist on a street such as this.

Finally, arriving at his bus stop, Michael eyed his watch. Ten minutes left until his bus would arrive. He hoped that there was a seat available today, unlike yesterday when he was forced to stand for the duration of his trip home. Winning lottery ticket or not, Michael could have afforded an automobile if he really wished. But, as he stared into the passing vehicles, the drivers all possessed a look of solitary disconnect, as if they were unaware that there was a thriving city around them. Michael preferred to be a part of the city, not just one of the zombies passing through, mindlessly listening to the latest pop crap or mundane talk show seeping through the car speakers, robbing them of whatever remaining intellect they possessed. He was sure that some of them were driving on autopilot, accumulating a puddle of drool in their lap. The only surroundings they were aware of were the ever-changing stoplights, hastening their trip home.

No, he refused to be a part of that scene. This city was a living, breathing entity and better observed from the bustling sidewalk than merely through a windshield. He usually preferred to walk the entire distance home but not when the heat was like this. A few minutes of air-conditioning would offer a safe haven from the heat stroke that seemed inevitable should he continue walking.

To pass the remaining minutes, he strolled over to the sidewalk vendor, selling a number of fragrances of incense, candles, and assorted holders.

The vendor, a recent immigrant from the Bahamas, looked up and smiled in recognition, “Another scorcher today, eh?”

“Man, I can’t believe this heat wave”, Michael said as he wiped the sweat from his face, “I’m surprised you aren’t standing in a pool of candle soup.”

“Only a matter of time, my friend”, the vendor laughed. “How about a box of incense today? I have new scents you will like. Mystical escapes, each one of them”.

Michael eyed the boxes, adorned with names like “Mandarin Dream”, “Indigo Breeze”, and “Rainstorm”. He picked up a box of “Rainstorm”.

“Nothing sounds quite as refreshing as the smell a good rainstorm right now. I suppose this is the closest I can get for another few months though.”

He was right. In the past few years, summer didn’t let up until the end of November. Grey skies wouldn’t rear their head anytime soon. He paid for the incense, patted the vendor on the back, and made his way to the bus stop, #88 just pulling up to the curb.

As Michael stepped up into the bus, he was immediately exposed to a gust of cold air, startling, yet indescribably refreshing. It was in this moment that he sincerely felt that the inventor or air conditioning should have been made a saint. Letting out a sigh of relief, he scanned the bus for an empty seat. A few rows back, he found his prize, an empty seat next to a young girl. Seeing him approach, she moved her backpack to the space by her feet and smiled. Michael thanked her and sat down.

The bus wouldn’t reach Michael’s stop for almost a half-hour. It wasn’t that it was a long distance, just the pitfalls of rush hour. Michael frowned moments later as he spotted the emergency vehicles passing him to the right and felt the bus come to a halt. “Crap” he sighed, “this is going to take forever”. It wasn’t that he was anxious to leave his semi-arctic environment. He just wanted to get home and start enjoying his next two days off. Resigned to the inevitable delay, he leaned back and closed his eyes, figuring that a little catnap never hurt anyone.