It was one of the few Mondays when I didn’t have to deal with the annoying traffic on King Street. With one of my usual delayers deleted I actually made it to work early on Easter Monday.
Me? Early for work? And on a holiday? I should have known it would have been one of those days. Yes, it was one of those days. One of those days when I would spend too many hours walking about in the sun, feeling sweat trickle down my back.
Yep, it was one of those days when I would actually get along with my boss and then hopefully burn a few hundred calories while I walked about GT (George-town) in the hot, hot sun.
So I’m dressed in all black; vest and jeans if you’re wondering. No, don’t even ask why I would wear such a thing on Easter Monday knowing fully well that the kite flyers would be getting lots of sun for fun and me, only heat for burns.
I step out of the office and as I walk towards the front of our less than grand compound, I begin to feel the heat wrap tightly around me. And so the sweating starts. Sweating is worse when you have to do it and then go back in an air conditioned office to dry off. Good thing I don’t smell. I hope not (wink).
So I get in the car. I’m still sweating. Our contracted drivers never turn on the AC because they’re concerned about the rising cost of gas and how it affects their profit margin. Aren’t we all?
Want to guess what wonderful task I’ve been given this year? I, brace yourselves, am going to take pictures of kite flying at the National Park and other known locations. I’m not looking forward to this task. I don’t want to walk through crowds and have sweaty strangers slide against me.
Thankfully, before I could get to the dreaded park I see thick smoke billowing in the GT sky. A building is on fire in the western side of the city and I have been nominated the camera woman.
I arrive at the scene and the shark in me peers around and is pleased to see only one other competitor there. He’s from some wavy establishment and before the fire was out his elbow connected with my teeth (this is a whole other story).
So I’m moving through the crowd. The police are blocking access to the street I need to be on. I can feel the heat of the sun and from the flames eating at the burning building. My eyes are searching for an easy way to the street I need to be on to get a great picture for you, yes you.
Aha! I’m going to climb the fence of someone’s front yard and then jump the narrow canal to get to the street. I rush towards the rear corner of the fence and I stop in my tracks. There is this old Guyanese man, walking stick and all, trying to hobble his sagging, wrinkly meat over the same fence.
Great! Just what I wanted for Easter! Yep, I sure wanted to see a sagging, trembling, possibly suicidal maniac, trying to get over a fence. And why? Because this is just how fast Guyanese people can be! Always minding everybody’s business but their own! (srh.midnight@gmail.com)
