The Sparkling San Francisco Skyline
The area in which I work consists of various sized cubicles with supervisor offices surrounding the perimeter floor. Window views of the trees, clouds, and sky are nonexistent. Only when going to the restroom am I afforded a huge second story window with sights of tree lined streets complete with cars and people strewn about.
This morning (Monday – my least favorite day of the week) while looking longingly and disgruntled out the window, it hit me… I imagined looking across the bay waters to the sparkling San Francisco skyline from a prison cell on Alcatraz Island. I paused and listened for the noise of the neighboring city life, the cable cars, the swaying boats in the marina; signs of a normal free existence. The caw from the seagulls, the crashing waves against the salt damaged breakers, and the aroma of the sea filled my head. I equated this exact trapped moment with what a prisoner would have encountered. I guess I subconsciously was looking for an escape. Something within was telling me I’d had enough. I was looking for and wanted an out.
My reprieve now over, I shuffled back to my desk to ponder my afternoon escape. But then, again (as is the case everyday), a hideous smell from a nearby cubicle fumes and invisibly plumes towards my personal space. The stench can only be described as and compared to the hot hairy ass crack of a cave dwelling Afghanistan terrorist. My daily ritual of singed nostril hairs commences; with this, I’m brought back to reality.
The waste produced by hundreds of inmates and guards and their families of the no longer operable penal colony couldn’t compare to the disgusting and incomparable reek I face each and every day from a co-worker who sits close by. My earlier contemplative thoughts of escape were no doubt brought on by my beaten senses today.
So, I finally told my Manager I needed to move to a BO free zone. I decided my repeatedly raped nostrils could no longer take the abuse. As I walked zombie-like to her office, I actually wished the rancid stench of a dead fish carcass could replace what my abused nose had endured today.
In a few short days, I will be paroled and will no longer have to endure this injustice. You win smell… I give up.