Dawn of a New Day

I stepped out of my vehicle today with a sigh, knowing that a full eight hours of grueling work were ahead of me. The work itself was not particularly difficult or physically strenuous, but the nature of the project was an exercise in futility that could bring anybody's sanity to the brink of collapse. As my car door opened, the clean, fresh, dew-laced aroma of another morning in Glenwood was quickly overtaken by the dank, grimy odor of the city with all of its hustle and bustle. On top of that, the taste of freshly molded plastic ironically hung heavy in the air outside of the Airlite building. Robert Duval once said he loves the smell of napalm in the morning, but even his character in Apocalypse Now would have gagged upon stumbling by this purgatory.

Pieces of trash blew down the empty street like the tumbleweed rolling through the old west, evoking an ominous feeling of loneliness and despair. These emotions were only further amplified by the sight of the bums passed out on the steps of the church across the street, sleeping off the previous night’s hangover. Their day would amount to panhandling for enough change to buy a few more tallboys of Colt .45 Malt Liquor. The sigh that I breathed as I exited my car? That was the sound of me realizing my day wouldn’t amount to much more. I was simply better dressed for the occasion. Such is Airlite…