"Hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on!"
A girl wearing a burnt orange UT shirt runs in the direction of the West Campus bus while talking on the phone. I turn to unlock my bike and fumble for a bit, feeling a northerly breeze ruffle my hair. A man wearing a black Harley Davidson shirt and woman wearing black leather pants walk hand in hand approaching 23rd street. I watch the Forty Acres bus allow them to cross and I mount my bike headed north towards Dean Keeton.
Ahead of me near the stop sign at 24th street, I can see a young man riding the opposite direction towards me in a bright turquoise t-shirt. He's booking it. Right before we collide he maneuvers swiftly to the right as if he had planned the encounter. I glance behind me and see a plant peaking out of his half-zipped bag like it's trying to jump ship. I halt for the red light at Dean Keeton and observe several construction workers to my right patching the sidewalk. I smell water but can't discern if it's the hose they are using to smooth the cement, or the sky, which has become increasingly dark with the prospect of rain. I anticipate the green light and proceed (illegally) with the rest of my commute.
As I approach Clown Dog bike shop, I decide to stop and air up my back tire because it feels like it's lagging. While I pull up, a woman is walking demurely with a baby in her arms. She smiles at me as I dismount and continues on. I decide to pump up both tires for insurance and feel the pressure in each with my thumb to make sure they are even. I press on heading north. At 30th street, a man is paying for parking at a new pay station. He wears a cast on his right arm that matches the blue "P" on the side of the station. As I approach a four way stop a new mother pushes a stroller while simultaneously tangling the leash of the dog she is walking. As she slowly crosses the street I look past her and observe a student climbing up the stairs to his apartment with a bike slung over his shoulder.
My turn arrives and I start to pump while standing in order conquer the small incline and clear the intersection quickly. I pass the fire station out of breath as the smell of mexican food escapes from Trudy's and hits me in the face like a wall; so strong I feel like I'm eating it. I take a right onto Hemphill and immediately after, pass a yellow taxicab. Down the street a man sits on a bench with his dog, enjoying the newly rejuvenated creek. I take a left up a gravel alley to reach 38th, and after waiting for traffic to clear, cross over into the parking lot of my apartment. I dismount and swing my bike up the two large steps of the entrance, startling a girl smoking outside her apartment.
It's exactly 1:17PM when me and my girlfriend leave her apartment. She shoves her foot in the doorway as she closes it behind her in order to prevent the cats from escaping. She jingles her keys around, searching until she finally grasps onto the gold one, the right one. All of the rest fall out of her hand and dangle from the silver carabiner as she twists her wrist assertively to the left, locking the door. The gravel glistens with a slight sheen as we descend the stairs and walk towards her car.
I pull on the handle of the passenger car door prematurely several times in an impatient manner until finally it unlocks with a "click." I take a seat, shut the car door, and instinctively reach behind me to pull the seat-belt across my body and observe another "click," signifying that I'm securely fastened. I hear the ignition and we pull out of her apartment complex on Avenue B towards 45th street. We don't have to wait long at the stop sign before we are able to make a left turn. At the Walgreens on the corner of Guadelupe, a middle aged blonde woman dressed in knee high white socks, pouffy denim shorts, and a pale pink shirt smokes a cigarette on the bench. Across the way there are several people waiting for the 1L/1M bus, including a blind man, who stands displaced slightly from the covered bench and the rest of the crowd. We take a right heading north on Guadelupe and pass a 7-11 near 51st. Outside an old silver Cadillac with large chrome rims is parked right beside the air pump, and nearby a young asian couple waits to cross the busy intersection. It's Friday at lunchtime and traffic is bad. Cars drive like sardines down the street, trying to make it to their destination. A white SUV weaves through traffic aggressively up ahead, making surrounding cars anxious. It turns onto a small side street before causing any harm.
As we approach Koenig, three homeless people are stationed holding cardboard signs, each at a different median. One in particular holds my attention. He is confined to a wheelchair and appears to be badly sunburned, despite the fact that he wears a hat. His clothes aren't wet, but I can tell by the color and shape of the dirt stains that they once were. I have thoughts of the man sitting in the rain as we pass the police station and DMV. There is a sea of police cars parked in front and several men in uniform appear to be in training near the building's entrance. Stopped at a red light near Justin St, three hispanic males stand outside Quicky Tattoos complacently. One of them wears a plaid cut off shirt marked with paint and dirt. He talks on the phone while the other two smoke under the shade of the awning.
The light is green again and shortly after passing Airport Blvd we make a right into the parking lot of Big Lots. We traverse two unsubstantial speed bumps before finding a spot right in front of the store. I release my seat belt, open the car door, and immediately smell sandwiches. I had forgotten there was a Subway next door.
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