A Basically Bad Day

A Basically Bad Day


A BASICALLY BAD DAY I don't remember the last bad day I had, except that I frowned at it and shookmy finger, saying "BAD! Bad Day!" That spate of strong language made the day cower in the corner and stay out ofmy way. That angered me even more, since it had already ruined things. Theleast it could have done would have been to continue wreaking havoc on my lifefor the full length of the day. You know, sunrise to sunset. I went along most cheerily for years until today when it came up at me with avengeful force that made me want to cower in the corner. This time, there wasno finger wagging -- I was in a mean enough mood to fight it to the bitter end. Which is where I am now--at a sleazy bar called the "Bitter End."(I'm usingthe pay phone and my portable terminal. The phone booth stinks of either oldbeer, sour beer or, perhaps, beer which has comingled with someone's gastricjuices.) This place, "Bitter End," is a great place to go after having had a bad day.Everyone is equally sour. The drinks -- even non-alchoholic ones -- are sort ofturpid. The bartender and waitress have faces so sulky and grouchful thatpatrons simply stare blankly at the floor or the bar or a tabletop and mumbleslurred phonemes. The jukebox is broken so a tinny radio adds to the torture of everyone's badday. The floors are filthy; the bathrooms are filthy; the language is filthy;even the cocktail napkins are filthy. Such a place, this is. My bad day started when I was awakened by my clock-radio-telephone. The alarmkicked the radio into an obnoxious news program and the phone buzzed stridentlyat 5 a.m. I struggled to answer, managing to damage the radio and scare awaywhoever it was who called. I struggled up to find I had captured a nasty summercold overnight. The cat was yowling. I yelled at the cat, went to make coffee of which there was enough for onecup. The shower refused to work and my nose started bleeding. I scrambled out of the house to find the interior of the car soaking wet froman overnight rain. I ran out of gas a block from home. (Getting gas onlydelayed me a few minutes, since I'm lucky enough to live two blocks away from agas station.) I arrived at work. The phone rang off the hook for a solid hour and none ofmy help arrived on time -- owing to the fact that this happened on July 5th.Everyone knows what it's like to get employees to work on time the day after aholiday. I was sniveling so freely that I could have just put a bucket under my nose,but I probably would have drowned in it. All of the elements of a bad day had occurred and it wasn't even 9 a.m. yet! I won't bore you with the rest of the details, other than to mention that Ilost my set of keys to everything I hold near and dear sometime before lunch,and my awfully bad-tempered cat had sneaked into the car and spent the daybothering me everywhere I went, or tried to go. So... Here I am at the "Bitter End." I'm smart enough not to have a drink. Icome here merely to get some perspective on what bad days are, and to lookvoyeuristically at other poor souls who are also having one--well, two. Theyare having a bad day AND a drink. There's a drunk guy banging on the door of this phone booth. He's utteringslurred phonemes at me with a look of crisp, acute rage. I think he'sthreatening me. Wait a sec: Whaddya want, buster? Get offa the phone jerk! No! I'm on long-distance! I'm gonna pullyerbutt outta there fatface! motion for my tangible self> tables.> Oh, oh....This is STILL a bad day! <....later.....> I've just gotten home from the E/R where a guy who thought he was ElliottGould decided to joke with me about the stitches he was lacing across my rightset of knuckles -- those very knuckles which saved my life by stopping a hurledbeer bottle. I'm feeling a little better now, knowing that the day is clearly almost overwith. In a few moments, I will be in bed. Safe. I'll sleep this day away andtomorrow will be---- ;;System crash! DIVE! DIVE! HOW YA' DOING GUYS AN' GALS? THIS IS OL' JOHNNY DAYBREAK, THEBREAKFAST FLAKE COMIN' AT YA' TWICE AS LOUD AS---