What do they call those guys that wear those reflective vests and hard hats on the side of the road, but don't actually do construction? Are they just workers? Telephone line repairmen? Surely they have names.
I saw a few on the way to work today, and since I was going in early, decided to stop for a bit, already having almost thrown myself off of my bike due to my own carelessness. I just about ran into the back of their truck, parked on the side of the road, as I thought about the sad sag of the telephone wires, victims of gravity. But you know all about that affliction.
I forget their names already, but they gave me an extra bottle of water they had lying around, and I pretended that it wasn't warm as sweat and just about as smelly. Water is water, and water is relief. And one of them asked if he could try my bike, not having ridden one since he was a teenager. Sure, why not.
When he came back from the other side of the parking lot, I told him he had to take me up in his cherry picker now. Sure, why not.
Wait.
Really? Oh, so he was serious after all. Maybe they were having a slow day as well, trying their best to prevent the sun from beating away their motivation and livelihood like colour evaporating from tattoos.
Up I went, a little choppily at first, but slightly smoother as I evened out to the height of the telephone wires. Some birds squawked disapproval and fluttered away, leaving me wondering how it was that they didn't get electrocuted.
I hung out for a little while. I marvelled at how much windier it was up that high, and when I finally looked down, I saw people walking dazed on the sidewalk. Here's an angle one doesn't see too often! How many people, do you think, make sure they look presentable from an aerial view? And as I sat up in the cherry picker looking down, there was some relief in realizing that people have lost interest or ability in ever looking up.
I saw a few on the way to work today, and since I was going in early, decided to stop for a bit, already having almost thrown myself off of my bike due to my own carelessness. I just about ran into the back of their truck, parked on the side of the road, as I thought about the sad sag of the telephone wires, victims of gravity. But you know all about that affliction.
I forget their names already, but they gave me an extra bottle of water they had lying around, and I pretended that it wasn't warm as sweat and just about as smelly. Water is water, and water is relief. And one of them asked if he could try my bike, not having ridden one since he was a teenager. Sure, why not.
When he came back from the other side of the parking lot, I told him he had to take me up in his cherry picker now. Sure, why not.
Wait.
Really? Oh, so he was serious after all. Maybe they were having a slow day as well, trying their best to prevent the sun from beating away their motivation and livelihood like colour evaporating from tattoos.
Up I went, a little choppily at first, but slightly smoother as I evened out to the height of the telephone wires. Some birds squawked disapproval and fluttered away, leaving me wondering how it was that they didn't get electrocuted.
I hung out for a little while. I marvelled at how much windier it was up that high, and when I finally looked down, I saw people walking dazed on the sidewalk. Here's an angle one doesn't see too often! How many people, do you think, make sure they look presentable from an aerial view? And as I sat up in the cherry picker looking down, there was some relief in realizing that people have lost interest or ability in ever looking up.
No comments:
Post a Comment