September

Late for work again. I especially hate to be late for a meeting when I know I am going to be the only black person there. Living down the stereotype of Colored People’s Time puts a lot of stress on a woman. I always try to make a good impression on the job and punctuality is a key point. I feel my armpits begin to perspire, although I have the air conditioning fan blasting on the highest level. I turn up the volume on my car stereo to hear Tom, Myra, Sybil and Jay on the morning show over the sound of the blowing air. I speed up my BMW to seventy miles per hour on route I-465. “Lord, please don’t let me get another speeding ticket.” I give it a second thought and I slow down to 60 mph. Now, I start weaving through morning traffic.

If William were in the car he would say, “I know this is Indianapolis, but you are not in the Indianapolis 500!” This morning if I were in the race I would place at least in the top ten. Traffic jam! I slow down and force my way out of the fast lane into the outside lane.

As I reach the inner city, I decide to take my chances on an alternate route. I make a hard right turn at the traffic light. I punch on the gas pedal. I am driving at top speed on the downtown streets. I make a hard left at the next traffic light and bingo! I hit green lights for seven blocks! Okay, just a few more blocks. I stop at a red light. I listen as DJ Jay Anthony murders another song as he sings along to a Top 40 hit over the sound waves. I laugh out loud and tap on the steering wheel to the beat of the music. Finally, the light turns green and I take off leaving tread marks and smoke behind. After just a few blocks, I hit another red light. Now the morning show group has decided to play a little theme music for the rush hour travelers. A little “Move Get Out Tha Way” is just what I need. I usually treat my downtown commute as a competition. Each day I try to beat my time from the previous day.

Finally, I see the checkered flag and I complete the last block of the race. Today my time is exceptional. Eat your heart out, Danica!

As I make a right turn down into the sub-basement parking garage, I lower the volume of the loud rap music blaring from my stereo. It is time for me to turn off my world and get into the groove of the corporate lifestyle I have chosen for myself. JDL, the fortune 500 marketing firm, is where I spend all of my days and most of my nights.

I grab my briefcase and hustle out of the car. “Feet don’t fail me now”, I say to myself as I jog the distance to the parking garage elevator. It is only 7:15 am and it is already hot and humid, a typical Indy summer morning. Thank goodness the end of summer is nearing. I think about the weather cooling off and autumn approaching as my shirt begins sticking to my back after just a few steps. I hope my hair spray holds up. I must look like quite a sight. It is not everyday you see an immaculately dressed black woman running through this parking garage with her hair flying behind her. This would be so much easier if I had on some of those tennis shoes many of the downtown female professionals wear to and from the office, but I would never be caught dead looking so tacky. I reach the parking garage elevator and go up to the main floor.

$12.50
Paperback, 5.5x8.5
ISBN: 978-159858-153-8
140 pages

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