Friends

 I had just left a friend's house, and as I made my way back to the Dead Presidents Highway to get home to Chicago. Thoughts about who I had just been with began to roll through my head. I realized that when I spent time with these people I felt angry a lot. I couldn't really say if the cause was the air of stagnant frustration, or the stubborn kind of simmering anger, or the insensitivity, or the drugs, or the.... The litany went on, and on, and on, in its familiar negative spiral. It was like a bad tape I had run so many times, and was beginning to get a kind of perverse satisfaction out of tearing these people apart. 

Suddenly an idea slammed into this smugly self satisfying explanation. Maybe, just maybe, I wasn't really angry at them at all! Perhaps these infractions were really parts of myself I was seeing in these people. Maybe this was something like being your own voyeur and not realizing it.

As I looked down that long stream of traffic ahead it dawned on me that even though I was flying along at 60 MPH in the climate controlled comfort of my autopilot Cruise-mobile, the paper thin layer of my civilized self was looking mighty transparent. There was an animal swimming just under the surface, not a pretty thing, with sharp teeth and claws.

As this new perspective was surfacing, I realized that I had been playing a rather stupid game with a large boat of another dead presidents Town Car, It seemed to fill the whole road ahead. When I would try to pass, it would speed up as well, staying right alongside me. When I slowed down, so did they.

I could feel the anger at them begin to rise up within me. As I realized this game was just like the one I played with my friends, the wave of anger rolled over me. Why should I have to cope with these kinds of situations, why couldn't they all just leave me alone?

As I was assessing my options for dealing with the boat, I glanced at the rear view mirror. I saw two headlamps moving up very fast from the rear . I felt a shiver run down my spine. I felt caught between an immovable object ahead, and an irresistible force approaching from behind. I was at least familiar with what was ahead, but the thing behind me was a mystery. On instinct, I decided to move out of its way, and allow for a safe passage.

The black car came speeding up behind us both. I caught a glimpse of it looking like a sleek predatory fish. I could see no markings or unnecessary lights, and nothing could be seen inside the silvered windows. The car looked expressionless and detached, as if it belonged to another world.

It slowed down slightly and then veered quickly through the passage I had made. It slipped by, with considerable speed and barely the sound of the wind. After it passed, the rear lights flashed off, then on, as if in acknowledgement of the deferral. In passing the only feature I could make out clearly was a license plate that said:  “DEATH.”

A strange peacefulness seemed to settle over me as I watched the town boat try to pursue DEATH. Within moments I saw flashing lights in the rear, and then began to hear the howling of a siren in dogged pursuit. Not too far up the road, the boat had been caught in the trap and was being processed; meanwhile death was nowhere to be seen. I was secretly happy it had gotten away somewhere down the river Styx.

The rest of the way home I felt at ease and protected. The night was much brighter, and seemed to contain a luminous quality all its own.