I haven’t listened to AC/DC since
the time that I went to see AC/DC. Brian Johnson is surprisingly short for his
voice. I always pictured him to be not necessarily a tower, but, maybe an
obelisk? I can’t say whether or not it was this surprise that spurred my disinterest
in their musical endeavors up until this point. As the stairs blur together
Highway to Hell is somehow finding a way to be recognizable amiss my long pants
and gasps, was that the twelfth floor back there or eleventh. The repairman
didn’t show up today and the elevator has been out for weeks. This sort of
cardio feels like it’s bad for my heart, if only I could slow down, take a
breath, get this stupid song out of my head. Ninth floor, here we go. My tie is slowing me
down, its clearly crushing my windpipe and suffocating, we need to operate. It’s
real silk, I did however get it on say at the bay, it would have made for a good
Christmas present from my wife, hell, I hinted at it for a solid two months
prior to the holiday, she was never there though, too preoccupied with
something else, no doubt. A quick tug and it comes free, I can tie a decent double
windsor, always have been able to, no one wears ties to work anymore. Whether
or not this is something to be happy about or not is something that for some
reason I have a tough time deciphering, maybe it’s just a sign of the times,
the professionalism of the twentieth century died with it. Maybe I don’t have
to fully take it off, just loosen it, no, it needs to go, keeps flapping around
uncomfortably when I clear the last few steps, damn, should’ve brought the tie
clip today. Who cares, right now is not the time to be mulling over these sorts
of details. With one quick tug the tie comes loose of my neck and the hair currently
standing tall, drenched in sweat, say goodbye to the fine material for the last
time. The tie helicopters behind me and takes a strangely long amount of time
to hit the ground, the sound it makes when it finally does hit the cement floor
is unique, like the pop of a microphone during soundcheck, satisfying in its
own way. The silence that follows is broken by my shoulder against the heavy
door, It opens loud and annoyed, begging for the glorious days where it would
be greased on a regular basis.
The street is packed, people
walking this way and that, all tending to their own errands, no one casually
strolling or chatting. Bumping into an old friend is a thing of the past. I
still haven’t been able to grasp the silence, its eerie. The sound of footsteps
and high-heels echoing off of the towers of downtown, the sound of streetlights
changing, the wind. Its eerie.
“Hello?” I manage
to get out through my AC/DC puffs. “Is there anybody here?”
Not a sound, the pitter-patter of leather on pavement
overpowers all.
“Hello?” I yell
again, this time much louder with much more involvement from my diaphragm, my
voice bouncing back to me before I finish.
Nothing.
A smartly dressed attractive young woman brushes past me,
her strawberry blonde hair smells like kiwi and her lipstick isn’t perfect. As
she does so her stiletto digs deeply into my already tired foot. There is no acknowledgement
to my yelp of pain. A man follows closely in her wake, I grab his coveralls in
panic.
“Are you there?
Please I need help.”
Not prepared for my grasp, the man, continuing his stride, becomes
top heavy and off balance, and falls backward towards the ground, his skull
loudly cracking on the sidewalk. His legs continue their strut, but I have no
time for him, he is a shell, and though broken, he can be fixed.
“Please, someone,
help me.” I repeat as I move through the crowds, knocking people over and breaking
the rhythm of many itineraries.
All
these people aren’t here, they are at home, enjoying themselves, away on
vacation, being human elsewhere. I cannot join them, I suffer from some…disorder
the doctor called it. I am stuck here in my body. There are many like me, but I
only really know one of them. Mike, my best friend, and he is currently
bleeding to death twenty floors up.
“I need a doctor!”
I scream as an ambulance drives by, the drivers calmly pausing at the red
light. I jump up to the driver’s side door and put my hand through the open
window to begin assaulting the man inside, he stares forward, indifferent. A
call comes in through the short wave radio. The two men in the vehicle sort of
blink oddly, the sirens flick on and they speed off through the light, throwing
me to the pavement in the process. If only I could mind jump, I could get a
doctor here within seconds. Or if only I wasn’t downtown, anywhere else I would
be able to find someone, someone who could help me.
“Please!” is all I can
get out at this point. I lay there in the middle of the street and cars calmly
reconfigure and dodge me as if an obstacle. There is nothing I can do, Mike is
going to die, and it is all my fault.
