The Ride Back Home

Waiting in the sea of immobile cars, while sitting in the driver’s seat, is not really the best thing to do. I was getting late. I needed to be home. But, the traffic is unbeatable. It’s frustrating. And at that moment, I wished to fly back home.

I’d turned off the engine (Yes, I like to conserve) and repeatedly cursed the traffic. The only sounds I could hear were the sound of my breathing; the soft, spitting rain on my windshield; whish-washing of the wipers that cleared out the water from the transparent screen in front of me; and the constant honking of the vehicles outside the confines of my car.

Suddenly, amidst this madness, I am lost. Completely blank in the head. Empty. Just when I thought that my brain wasn’t functioning anymore, I was proved wrong by my own voice questioning me “What has happened to you?” Did I have an answer? No. Of course I didn’t. I was completely blank. There was no repeated thought that capered about the grey matters of my brain. In fact, there was no thought at all. I was listening intently to the sounds around me and how they all united in an annoyingly calm and quiet cadence. Being sucked out of all thought for these twenty minutes gave me a kind of unexplainable peace.

I suddenly shook awkwardly, as though an unconscious patient rose to consciousness. I realized my comeback when the vehicles had started noisily honking behind me. And when I looked up, I saw that I had given off about ten meters of driving space ahead of me.

Startled, as well as slightly amused with the entire situation, I accelerated the car and waded home through the flooded streets.

All in all, I had been rid of all the weariness, and I was looking forward to a relaxing evening, listening to the Elton John’s tunes whilst lying down on my hammock in the balcony.