Best Day Ever!

I stumbled into my apartment, threw down my bag, wandered into the kitchen, sat down, put my head into my hands, and began my latest existential crisis. I’m so pointless and meaningless and my life is crap, total crap and I’m not happy and I was never happy and every day seems to be getting worse and worse and I can’t hold down a job or a relationship and my life’s a total mess my God, I’m never happy what is my life?

I wallowed in self-pity for the next few minutes before I realized something; life wasn’t gonna get any better if I just went around feeling bad about myself and not doing anything about my problems. In fact, it was gonna get a hell of a lot worse.

I decided to make a commitment; I was gonna try my hardest to make tomorrow the best day ever! And if I failed, well…I wasn’t gonna fail. That much was sure.

As I set my alarm before getting into bed, I knew exactly what I was going to do tomorrow; wake up at 6 AM sharp, make some coffee, go for a brisk 3 mile jog, come back home, eat breakfast, go to work, be extremely productive, like INCREDIBLY productive, get SO much work done, go home, read a book, listen to some classical music, take a walk in Central Park, go to bed, get enough sleep, and do the whole thing over again for the rest of my life. Simple!

As I drifted off to sleep at night listening to a whale sounds playlist, I was certain that the next day would be great!

I slept terribly last night. I had a horrible nightmare in which I was being eaten by a whale. And I mean, the bastard would munch and munch and munch. Grind my bones into a fine powder. It was utter torture.

I woke up at around 7:30 because I slept right through my alarm. That whale just wouldn’t let up!

I hopped out of bed in a frenetic daze. I tried brushing my teeth while getting dressed but dropped my toothbrush, causing the toothpaste to streak across the sharp red blazer that my mom gave me. I decided to skip my morning shower today, deciding that I’d make sure to take one in the evening.

I didn’t have time to make coffee or go for my planned 3 mile jog. I didn’t even have time to feed my dog so I decided to simply rip open the bag of kibble and throw it on the floor. I figured he’d be smart enough to figure it out. I did however have time to tip some water into his bowl and managed to only spill some of it on the floor, which I called an accomplishment, unfortunately the first of the day.

As I was rushing down the stairs of my apartment building, I tripped and fell down an entire flight of them. It looked like one of those cartoons where characters fall down the stairs for a comically long time. I was knocked out for a few seconds and woke up to an old lady giving me a weird look. I dragged myself to my feet as she muttered “I swear to God, the management has to do something about those junkies,” and walked away.

I figured that my clothes had to be pretty messed up for her to compare me to a junkie. I straightened out my rumpled blazer and pants. Everything in my bag also decided to fall out and I mean literally everything (I found a ticket stub for Twister!) so I had to pick up all the random crap in there before running to my car.

I dashed over to my gray Honda Civic, hopped inside, and started the engine.

It weakly sputtered and died.

I swore and slammed my hand against the steering wheel then swore some more because it turned out steering wheels were much harder than I expected. I knew that I had to do something horrible; use New York City Public Transportation. (Duh Duh Duhhhhhhhh).

My journey on the subway went about as well as you expected.

A portly lady coughed right in my face, a heavily bearded man sat down when I was clearly right about to, forcing me to stand for the entire ponderous ride, and an anxious looking man got hauled off by police at our second stop, desperately protesting that he didn’t do it.

All in all, a pretty normal ride.

I finally arrived at my stop, got off with the intense crush of people that pushes their way out at every stop, and raced up to the surface.

I was free!

My building was right across the street so I ran off to it. A man pushing around a dingy cart urged me to buy a hot dog at the entrance. I had skipped breakfast that morning and was pretty hungry so I decided to bite the bullet and cough up my three bucks for one of the suspiciously soaking wieners. The hot dog man attempted to thank me in a vaguely European language before giving me a toothless grin. “You’re welcome,” I muttered before dashing into the building.

I took the elevator up, said hi to Mary at the front desk, and dashed to the bathroom the second I entered the office. I then set down my bag and looked at myself in the mirror.

My clothes were rumpled, my makeup was streaked, my hair was a mangle of curls. I looked horrible!

I tried my best to make sense of the mess that was me before exiting the bathroom. As I did so I bumped into everyone’s favorite caffeine-addicted Synergy promoter Nick.

Nick used to be a pretty chill guy who you could have an actual conversation with but ever since he’d been promoted to upper management a few months ago, he’d been acting like a soulless, corporate douche.

“Ruth! Just the woman I wanted to see! Now, can you please explain why you’re late?”

I stared at him for a few seconds, at that annoying clump of hair falling across his forehead, that World’s Best Boss mug in his hands that Jane got him for Christmas to get a few hundred more dollars in her bonus, that annoyingly chipper, caffeine-fueled smile plastered across his face before responding “My car broke down.”

He smiled even wider and leaned in close to me. “Look Ruth, I don’t like to promote judgment in the workplace but really, why are you here?”

“I just told you,” I said, getting more annoyed by the second. “My car broke down.”

His smile faded a bit. “Look Ruth, you can be honest with me. I promise, you’ll be fine.” That was, of course, a total lie. “I’m telling the truth,” I said. “Ok, I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. Just…don’t be late again, alright? That’d be great.” I nodded. “Thanks a lot.” Nick then thankfully lumbered back to his office and I walked over to my desk.

The day was thankfully pretty uneventful up until lunch. I realized that I forgot to bring something so I grabbed a granola bar from the kitchen. Much to everyone’s annoyance, Nick called us into the conference room for a meeting.

“Today, we will be completing a mandatory self-defense course,” Nick exclaimed as we shuffled into the room. “Now, I myself have been taking Jitsu classes outside of work, earning myself a black belt in the process. As I am the most experienced in this room, I will be your instructor. Now, let me call someone up for a basic demonstration. How about…Ruth! Come on up here!”

I giggled nervously, stood up, and walked over to him, knowing I was about to completely humiliate myself.

Nick turned to me as I walked over. He gave me a little ceremonial bow and I awkwardly bowed back. “Now Ruth here,” he said, turning to face everyone. “Is going to try to hit me. I will block her blows while demonstrating how to do so to all of you. Got it?” My coworkers all nodded uneasily. “Right then,” Nick said cheerfully. “Ruth, try to hit me.” I swung a few pathetic slaps at him which he easily blocked. “Come on, harder!” he yelled, amped up on adrenaline and caffeine. “Don’t be afraid to go right for the face!”

That’s when something snapped inside of me.

I remembered all the times Nick passed me up for promotions. All the times he directly/indirectly insulted me and my coworkers. All the times he scolded me for no reason.

The next thing I knew, my fist was flying towards his face at a rapid speed. I also reportedly let out a high-pitched shriek though I don’t remember yelling. I blinked and Nick was on the floor, his nose bent and twisted like Silly Putty.

I looked up and saw my coworkers staring at me in shock. I had just knocked out our boss.

I decided that the next logical step would be to dash out of the room.

I took the elevator down in a daze. I couldn’t believe what just happened. I’d punched out Nick! I knew full well that I was gonna be fired but I was still satisfied. I mean, I’d wanted to stick it to that smug prick ever since he was promoted! I know I must sound like a horrible person right now but still, booyah!

I decided to not go back to work. I mean, how could I? I knew that the second I came back tomorrow I’d be told to clean out my desk or maybe even be slapped with a lawsuit so I needed to figure something out quick. I did, however, have a plan. I’d catch the subway home, take a nice, relaxing walk in Central Park, go home, and start looking for jobs. Things may not be that bad after all!

I noticed that I was walking down the street this whole time and was pretty far away from the subway. As I headed there, my stomach growled. I figured I must have been hungry as all I had to eat that day was an oddly slimy hot dog. I promised myself that I would order from that great Chinese place near me when I got home. Suddenly, my stomach growled again and I was hit by an overwhelming wave of nausea. I stumbled into an alley, feeling worse by the second.

Suddenly, a teenager in a poorly made black mask jumped in front of me, wielding a small handgun. “Gimme your wallet right this second or I’ll blow your head off!” he screamed, waving the gun around.

Oh great, I thought. Just excellent. First, I slept through my alarm. Second, my car broke down. Third, I punched my boss. Fourth, I got bad food poisoning. And now I’m getting mugged. Best day ever, my ass!

“Ok ok,” I groaned. “I’ll give you my wallet!” I wasn’t gonna deal with this.

Suddenly, an extreme wave of nausea hit me. I lurched forward and vomited all over the mugger.

He literally shook with rage after the spew of vomit hit him. “You’re dead!” he yelled. Before I knew it, he deftly flipped the gun over in his hand and swung the barrel towards me. I heard a crack, felt an explosion of pain, and passed out.

I woke up in a small, stark white hospital room. I heard a siren go off seconds after I woke up which wasn’t a very good sign. I then heard doctors rushing around before hearing someone walking past my room mutter “Damnit, we lost another one!”, which I also didn’t take as a good sign.

After a few minutes, a doctor came into the room. She kindly informed me that I was caught in a house fire and suffered severe burns on my arm. I kindly informed her that I wasn’t a burn victim, she kindly insisted that I was, before I kindly pointed out that she had the wrong patient sheet. She kindly didn’t bother apologizing and kindly informed me that I had been mugged and had been unconscious for the past three hours. She also kindly mentioned that I also suffered bad food poisoning and had to have my stomach pumped and that the mugger was going to strike me with the barrel even more when a passing civilian tackled him to the ground and called the police. I was shocked at the kindness of this stranger after everything that happened that day.

I asked the doctor what hospital I was confined in. She smiled and replied “Coney Island Central.” “You’re kidding me,” I said. “I get that a lot,” she responded, giving me another quick smile.

I couldn’t eat anything as I had recently gotten my stomach pumped so I had to drink mash through a straw for my evening meal. Yum.

Things got better though as the guy who potentially saved my life popped in a few hours later. We talked for quite a while. His name was Brandon, he had a dead end job that he hated as an insurance salesman, and he’d saved my life entirely on an impulse. I can relate to this guy, I thought.

He had curly, light brown hair and bright blue eyes. He laughed and smiled a lot, had a crazy Canadian family that he told me many stories about, listened to Rush, and had the cutest smile of all time, with his big, goofy front teeth. I asked if he was single and he responded with yes. I smiled. Maybe today wasn’t gonna be such a bad day after all!

“That’s about the cheesiest thing I ever heard.”

“Shut up, Brandon. This is my story!”

“I know. You wanna publish it, right?”

“Yeah, on Medium.”

“Medium? Isn’t that where freelance writers go to whine about their problems?”

“Look Brandon, I can only take so many jabs a day.”

“I know, I know.”

Silence

“I love your dumbass, you know?”

“That’s a bit blunt.”

“You should be thankful you got an “I love you” out of me.”

“Trust me, I am.”

More Silence

“I do really love you though.”

“I knew you’d come around. I love you too.”