[WP] February 9, 2016
He glanced up at the TV above the bar just in time to catch the beginning of the commercial.
“Your birthday is the scariest day of the year, but it doesn’t have to be.” said a hired commercial actress “Let us take the fear out of your birthday by staying with us for those precious 24 hours.” she smiled reassuringly at the camera and continued, the music that was underscoring her words started to swell “With our padded safe rooms and helpful staff we can guarantee your safety. We back that up with our million dollar safety policy. If anything happens to you on your birthday, the beneficiary of your choosing will be well taken care of. You can look forward to another year of life knowing that United Birthday Safety is here to protect you.”
“Ha! I was born too poor to afford that kind of a luxury.” he punctuated his words by draining the last of his whiskey and slamming the glass down on the bar.
“Settle down over there!” the bartender gave him a stern look.
“Sorry” he mumbled “Let me get another one…”
His drinking always got worse as he approached his birthday. And just like when you decided to buy a yellow car and suddenly you see them everywhere, he was seeing those damn birthday safety commercials all over the place.
He would prefer not to think about it, but the marketing geniuses knew when to strike. Their message was always on point, and their profit motivated concern for his safety just further reminded him of his position in life.
One could look at the situation and see it as a gift. Humans can only die on their birthdays. Not only does it have a kind of poetic symmetry, but it also allows humans to risk a lot since they only have to worry about death for 24 hours out of every year.
But for those that can’t afford the luxury accommodations at a place like UBS (United Birthday Safety), those hours were extremely risky.
As he had progressed in years, he could feel nature’s tug toward the grave become more powerful. It’s as if the whole world started conspiring for his demise.
The bartender poured him another whiskey.
“Thanks” he mumbled and took a sip.
“You’re really getting after it tonight… are you trying to forget something?” the bartender asked.
“Yes. It’s my birthday tomorrow. And I’m not in a position to lock myself away in a safe room for the day.”
“I see… well, getting blasted doesn’t increase your odds of living through another birthday, in fact they can have quite the opposite effect.” the bartended started polishing a glass with a towel that looked like it might be dirtier than the glass.
“I know. But I’m hoping that with enough of this poison I’ll be able to sleep through it.” he took another sip, and examined his glass for a few seconds before setting it back down on the bar.
“I don’t have enough for a safe room, but I can buy enough whiskey to remain comatose for most of tomorrow. I’ve cleared out my apartment as best I can… now I’ll just hope for the best.”
The bartended pointed at the clock behind the bar. “Well, it’s almost 11:30pm right now, you should probably wrap it up and get home before too long. Do you have a way to get home?”
“I don’t live far from here.” he said as he drained his glass.
“One more for the road.” he slid the glass towards the bartender.
The bartended poured him another glass. “Sure thing buddy. And Happy Birthday.”