For the better part of five years I worked at the foremost rock club on the East Coast. Night after night, I was right in the centre of everything, all the beauties and the VIPs mingling with the scum and the dregs of humanity.
The place must’ve been awash with every bug and every germ and every virus you could think of as well as a few you probably don’t want to think of. But that whole time I scarcely ever got sick. I might’ve had a couple colds during that time but I shrugged them off for the most part. Maybe I built up a tolerance due to to constant low-level exposure, who knows.
Now I’m a librarian in a small village library. Today at work, I waited on no persons under 30 who were not accompanied by a guardian, and I waited on no male persons at all. It’s quite a change of pace.
And I am a friggin’ mess. Yesterday I came down with the nastiest cold. My arms and legs are sore. I have been unleashing sneezes of such colossal power that they are strangely satisfying. It feels as though my brain has turned to liquid and is pouring out my nose.
I find it all kind of funny. A cold is an absurd state to be in. Why is my body doing all this silly stuff? I think I’m not in as good shape as I used to be when I was riding my bike to work 12 months out of the year and walking everywhere. I have a car now, it’s cold out and pretty much anywhere I’d want to go is driving distance.
So here we are at eight o’clock on a Saturday evening. You’re probably getting ready to go out and make it all happen. You’re going to get drunk, rock out, make noise, make love, make all kinds of ruckus. Whereas, when I left work today I signed out four novels and the complete Back To The Future trilogy. I’m going to turn on the space heater and crawl into bed and read.
I’m going to fall asleep. I’m going to wake up a passenger in some kind of moving vehicle with no idea where I am, no idea where I’m going, no idea why my clothes are covered in someone else’s blood. I have no idea what is happening to me. I’ll never see any of you again.