by Leslee Kulba
Wild West blogger
Captain’s log, stardate 41153.7. It is now the fourth day of Strive Not to Drive Week. Having slept in the car at work, I decided I could make it to church in two hours. Little did I know there was a whole lot more highway fencing than there was the last time. I’ve mentioned before that one must have a card to access the Hillcrest Bridge, a perk of living in public housing is an exclusive right to cross the French Broad River without swimming.
So, I finally thought I could cross this fence that went on and on and on away from the turn I needed to make. I clawed my way to the top of a dirt berm, only to see more fence on the downhill. I spied some trees, two of which I thought could hold my weight as I swung across the fence. Sadly for me, I was wearing loose and baggy clothing; so, after I had thrown my shoes and keys to the other side, I had to hang like a monkey with one hand and rip my clothing off the snags with the other. I could have made it if I wanted to take my clothing off, but there was a bus stop right across the street with two of the eight people I would see outside of cars on my two-hour walk. Instead, I boomed back down the dusty hill and walked and walked in my stocking feet. I soon spied another bridge that looked good. This one smelled like poo because there was some poo in there, amidst a sea of food wrappers, clothing, and health and beauty packaging. I held my breath and was soon on my way, and happy to find nobody had taken my shoes and keys.
All grubby, I decided to listen to the service from the hall. I told my friend I was all dirty and torn up and didn’t want to call attention to myself, and she thought I was talking about my soul. When I explained, she said one of her sons had also been caught unawares by the extended fencing.
On the way back to work, I finally figured things out. To get from here to there, 5 minutes as the crow flies, one must backtrack and cross the manure bridge so they can later take a bridge back to the original side of the freeway. It was then that I learned that the Hillcrest Bridge was not members-only, one needed only cross to the other side of the highway. And so, I had a half hour added to my trek. It makes a lot of sense, thought I. If somebody is losing four hours of sleep to walk to work, they really do need that extra hour built in to fight the obesity crisis. I tell myself these walks are so lonely because everybody else is eating like the FLOTUS and running three-minute miles.
The day passed at work. I took the boss’ dog for a two hour walk. I would like to have gone three, but my obese feet were killing me. I saw two other peds this time. One was disguised as a homeless man, and the other was disguised as a jogger. I got off work around 1:00 a.m., and I was so obese and carbon-foot-printed, I asked the boss if I could please drive his car home. I packed up, and then he wanted me to reprogram the thermostat and take care of some medical waste. I didn’t realize until I got home that I had managed to leave my house keys in the office. And so, there I was, feeling all creepy-crawly with another bathless night. The news people are talking about scabies, and my head is feeling kinda itchy. I had wished this Tuesday would be city council’s turn to meet so I could show up and give them-all a whiff of what I smell like when I strive not to drive. I hope to make the four hour commute tonight, but that 2.5 hours of sleep max is really a turn-off.