Us Versus the World

T-Minus 72 Hours to Performance

The next morning we started driving early, because we had wasted a lot of time on emotional catharsis and trying to find something on the Burger King menu that was edible the previous night. We were T-minus 3 days until the contest, and I was still trying to get past the first line of my poem.

"Murphy?"

"Devon?" I loved hearing her say my name. She had taken to saying it more than she really needed to.

"What if we drive all the way out here for a poetry contest, and I don't have a poem?"

"What do you mean, Devon?"

"I don't think I'm going to be able to write a poem. I'm too nervous and I don't have anything at all to say."

"Too nervous, hmm?" her fingers taped idly on the steering wheel. "Why don't you try something to take the edge off." She leaned over me and popped the glove compartment. Sitting inside was a box of cigarettes and a lighter.

"I got them this morning at the gas station while you were still half asleep. I pegged the management as shoddy, and I was right, they didn't even ask for an ID."

I unwrapped the box, which made a delightful crinkling sound. I smelled the cigarette (before I had never even really seen one up close like this). It smelled like freedom. It smelled like choice. It smelled like not really giving a damn about the science of addiction because it was what I wanted to do in this very minute.

"These are really bad for you. We had to do a whole class on the cancer this shit causes."

"Yeah," I agreed lamely, "for sure." And I picked up the stupid lighter and I held the stupid thing for a long time. I realized I had never used a lighter.

"You have to click it. Use your thumb."

It took a couple of tries, but eventually, I did it. I held the cigarette towards the flame.

"Wrong end, Dev. You have to light the yellow-orange part."

Another cigarette later, I finally lit it. I held the smoldering thing and slowly brought it to my lips. I was immediately struck with how bad it smelled. But I had gotten this far, and I wasn't backing down now. So I plugged my nose and took a sharp inhale.

Honestly, one of the worst decisions I ever made. I don't know if there is such a thing as a smoker lightweight, but if so that is what I am. I do not have a high tolerance for discomfort, and so the smoke burning my lungs did not go over well with me. I started coughing. My eyes started watering. Murphy was looking highly amused until I started telling her I was going to be sick in her A/C vent.

She was pulling over the car, but the motion was making it worse. I rolled down my window to get a breath of fresh air but ended up barely sparing the faux leather upholstery.

Now I can say there is a part of myself in Ohio. Or Indiana. I honestly forget where we were at this point. I do recall the inside of a car wash pretty vividly.

When we got back onto the highway, Murphy did not seem as excited about putting another checkmark on the box.

For my part, I agreed that it was not quite as relaxing as I had previously imagined. Murphy turned on the radio and I tried to write.

In another couple of hours, we were both sick of being in the car. I still hadn't managed to scratch out anything near presentable for the contest, and I was nervous hungry. Murphy was also shifting in her seat, and, if at all possible, driving worse than usual.

"Take a left." I directed her.

"What are we doing?"

"Take a left" I repeated, monotone. And Murphy, who was very unused to being directed, took the direction anyway. We were coasting down the backstreets of an unfamiliar town center. I kept my eyes scanning every storefront.

"We're going to get you a sit-down dinner." I gave her by way of explanation.

Murphy was obviously unused to being in my shoes, and her faint protest was very refreshing. We eventually pulled into a place that looked like the waiters were wearing ties.

Unfortunately, it occurred to us, we had not showered or changed clothes in 2 days. In an ideal world, we probably would have scrapped the idea and gone shopping. But this was not an ideal world, and we were soon sitting somewhere in Oklahoma trying to decide if my taste buds were sophisticated enough to like anything off the adult menu while a waiter tried to figure out if we were as poor as we looked.

As I was ordering, I realized I was definately in an alternate universe. Or maybe this universe was somehow getting better. 

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