An Unoriginal Adventure

Brrrring.....Brrrrrrrring... I strain a little to hear the vague sound of something ringing....the telephone! I walk over to the desk and pick up the phone. A heavy gruff voice breathes down on the receiver, "6.30, you know the place". Startled, I reply "It's already 5.30. I won't be able to make it. Do you have what I asked for?"

"Yes, Do what you have to do. 6.30". (Click)

As I set the receiver down, my heart started beating faster. I checked the window. Damn! It was snowing. Picking up my overcoat, I left the apartment. The skies were ashen gray, smoke colluding with the snow, and the  sun setting on the ghastly skyline. 'Could this day get any more grimmer'. Steps turned into strides, as I found myself hurtling towards the subway.

"5.40".

I step into the train, and my nostrils are filled with exasperation and evening weariness, while my body is crushed by hairy, sweaty chests while I clutch on to the only vacant handle. The train jerks to a halt at every station, my mind wondering and wandering, wishing and hoping, for time to move faster. I check my watch nervously every 5 minutes, only to find that a minute has elapsed since the last check. The sweat runs off my brow, and onto my lips. It isn't hot at all, and yet I'm sweating. Fidgeting all the while, people around me are getting nervous. It seems my nervousness is infectious.

 The people start looking at a strange, short man wearing a dark overcoat with a beaten down skull cap, staring nervously at his watch. I get more nervous. (Why are they staring at me?). I start sweating profusely.
Suddenly, there is a loud squeaking noise and the speaker bursts to life,

Announcer: "The next station is...."

'Finally...I've reached'

A few of the commuters exchange relieved glances, as I get off the train. I feel relieved too, and take a look at the time.
'Oh! No. "6.25".

I make my way towards the gangway, and lo and behold, hordes of people, mindless drones walking with briefcases, to God knows where. I hobble, fuming, towards the end, shouting in my mind, at the idiots, 'Make way!'. Finally, stripped of restraint, I start pushing people, who respond with "What the hell"s and quizzical looks. I'm looking at my watch all the while.


6.28

'Damn! Where the hell is this place?'
I whip out my phone and check the GPS.
'Okay. The arrow is pointing this way'. I take a left and keep running. I glance at the phone again.
'What the hell? Now its pointing the other way'. I throw the phone back into my coat pocket, cursing it all the while.


6.32


I arrive at the destination. CRH, Ltd. A dark alley, dimly lit, with long shadows of the corporate building next door, bathes sections of the alley in complete darkness. I thought I saw someone. Or are my eyes playing tricks with me? I knew he couldn't have left. I've almost reached on time. I look around, there's no one. I check my phone, no calls. I walk towards the alley. Out of the corner of my eye, I see smoke, cigarette smoke. I walk towards it. There, I see three men standing, having a laugh, taking drags of the cancer stick. I approach them and ask them if they've seen someone hanging around this place. "No", they utter in grumpy unison. Standing beside them, overhearing the conversation about financial deregulation, and CDO's, I guessed they worked at the office next door.


5 minutes pass. 10 minutes pass. I wonder whether this guy has left already. The smoke from the cancer sticks entices me. 'Oh! Cancer sticks. I crave for thee. I promised someone I wouldn't'. Sometime later, the man extinguishes his cigarette and looks at me, "You should try in there. Someone did go in there", he says pointing to the neon sign. I nod and make my way towards the door. 

As I push past the heavy swinging door, I'm greeted by what could only be described as an angel. A little black dress, off shoulder, with black leather boots. Her hair, tied up in a bunch, with a chopstick nestling in it, with some of her draping over her elegant, lean neck. She looked at me with a knowing gaze and said, "This way, Sir". As I walk through the darkened corridor, with obscene 'modern' art adorning the walls, the growing din of bass is slowly creeping on me.


The smell of heroin, bathed in some cocaine greets me. I'm awestruck at the visual orgy of fluorescent lights, people in tumultuous rapture, and the smoke that has formed a thick layer over the dancing bodies. The bar is relatively empty, I think to myself. The bartender introduces himself, "Gerard, Have a seat. What can I get you"?.
  
"Whiskey. Straight up"


As I down the drink, the whiskey fills my throat with a warmth and a calm which I thought I'd never achieve.I look up and see Gerard looking at me. A looming shadow covers his face, and someone taps my shoulder.....


to be contd...