The buses run much less frequently on a Saturday. Normally Brian's around on weekends to drive me in to work, but this time he was off baking something delicious at Culinary Crafts while I walked the few blocks down to the bus station. And knowing the buses don't come by as often, you can imagine my disappointment as I saw the bus--more than a block away--rounding the corner and driving resolutely past the stop I should have been standing at.
Rats. I was late for the bus and it's all Apple's fault. Running down the stairs from my apartment I realized that I did not have the earphones to my iPod. I had left them on the counter as to remember them on my way out, but of course I didn't remember them. I did a little shuffle as my body switched between going back up or heading on down, before hastily deciding to run back upstairs to retrieve them. That's where I lost those few precious minutes that would have gotten me to the bus stop on time.
And do you know what the sad part is? On my way to the sidewalk I discovered my iPod's battery was dead so I couldn't listen to music anyway. I wasted time for nothing.
So after seeing my bus move along without me, I arrived at the stop and looked at the schedule. I had to wait almost an hour for the next bus. An hour of standing there without even music to pass the time with. That didn't sound like fun. So I was faced with the dilemma: To walk or not to walk? I decided I might as well just keep on walking. Luckily I had planned on getting to the mall where I work early, so I had about an hour and fifteen minutes to get there in. Part of me was exhilarated by the challenge. Could I walk that far? Could I make it in time? I never felt so alive.
I sent a text to my friend Michelle and she thought the idea of me walking to the Provo Towne Centre from my apartment was ridiculous if not suicidal. I figured a little exercise couldn't hurt. I do have a rather large belly and rear end to get rid of. And with my new sense of resolve, I marched on, block after block after block.
I can do this.
And as I was nearing downtown Provo on a rather shady and tree-lined street, a minivan pulled over in front of me and a familiar face said, "Jack?"
Yeah, I'm not doing this.
It was my Aunt Krista. My Uncle Greg was driving and my two little nieces were in the backseat. They were coming back from some sort of wedding luncheon or something, and they were pretty surprised to see me walking along at a brisk pace, slightly sweaty in a dark suit and tie.
The challenge to walk all the way to work and shed some pounds went unmet; the temptation to accept a ride in an air-conditioned minivan won out. So thus I arrived to work, still some 45 minutes early and smelling like a sumo-wrestler after running a 5K marathon.
"Hi, welcome to Zales!" I said cheerily to a customer.
The woman smiled, sniffed the air and said, "Why do I smell ass sweat?"