Smoky Race

She was facing the yellow amber shadow as it crept through the window. No alarm clock was needed, for she woke to the rising of the city. Whistling trains, car horns blowing, the beating feet of the joggers and of course the empty laughter of the passersby on the street below, filled her room. Yes, this was her morning wake-up; no technical intervention needed. As she crawled out of the bed, from yet another restless night, she stood by the window and watched the action below and read the same huge billboard sign that faced her window. It was from the Cancer Society--you can save packs of money and your life too it read, with a white woman walking towards the serenity of the beach away from a pack of dollar bills rolled to resemble cigarettes. Funny, she thought, how many people had she seen walking by the billboard on their way to the train station with a cigarette hanging from their mouth. I guess they were not interested in saving either money or their life.

As she turned away from the window to prepare for her day, a sudden chill ran through her. Although the sun was out, it was still a bit nippy in the city. To say the building where she lived was a new construction, it still felt void of any type of insulation, or at least the kind that she was accustomed to. Wrapping up in a bathrobe, she gathered her things to head for the shower stall. She dreaded the early morning chatter of her neighbors--loud and full, yet void of sincerity. Why do people talk so much, she often wondered. Anyway, today she was able to escape the noise, the empty 'good morning, what are you doing today, how was last night' chatter. Returning to her room from taking a shower, she continued her morning routine. Rambling through her CD case, she thought, who would it be this morning. Which one of her ebony birds would know what she's thinking, how she's feeling, capture her mood, take her away in their melody and then keep her going for the rest of the day. Dewey, Miles, John, Stanley, Pharoah, Ellis? She decided on John's "Giant Footsteps." The sounds of that sax always seemed to make her footsteps a little more comfortable, a little lighter, while in this foreign land--for the weight of this city was enormous.

Finally dressed and ready to head off for yet another day, as the lift descended down to the first floor, she was greeted by the same chatter she had managed to escape earlier.

"Good morning, Alice, how ya going? Ya look nice t'day, mate," said the superintendent of the building. While he spoke, she contemplated taking a few minutes to chat. She had a few minutes to kill before walking to the train station, and plus he was a nice enough old man.

"I'm doing just fine. How about you? Keeping busy, I see," Alice responded, as she watched him repairing a hole in the wall.

"Yeah. Just makin' sure the building is in working order," he replied, while continuing working.

After thinking it over, Alice decided not to take the time to talk; she could stand to get to work a few minutes early.

"See ya later, Russell. Don't work too hard," she called as she opened the door to meet the sun that had crept in her room earlier.

Passing by the billboard sign again, the winter wind whipped across her face while she made her way to the station. Finally, she thought, warmness, as she darted from the cold city air into the train station. Although inside amongst many warm bodies, the chill did not escape her. Whistling wind filled the air of the tunnel, ushering bodies on and off to their destination--some by choice, others by necessity. Racing colors on the walls filled the corridors of the path traveled by thousands, their colors blending in with the walls, each on a destiny already made in their minds, each fading into the walls of the train tunnel. Whatever the reason, the hues and sounds of the wind take them there.

As she walked a mile on this ruthless trap to join those who shared the same platform, she soaked up the color in their face, the colors of the place--the color of their country. Eyes met hers just as the bridge met her plane--allowing entry but standing ground. The expression of their eyes matched the unspoken words of their lips: Who is she? Where did she come from? Surrounded by the crowd of hurried tan and white bodies, Alice could feel the unspoken questions. She was used to it by now. It had been six months of traveling in the same train station, with the same faceless, nameless people racing against time to catch a ride. Something binding each of them, whether their individual races or the white hue of smoke that escaped their fingers, nostrils or mouths. Each taking a drag from their cigarettes while eying her from the side. Feeling like a little black bird standing out among the dull yet vibrant colors that aligned the tunnel she had resided in knowing that at least she could fly.

"Pardon me mate," a skinny, body-pierced young man with a cigarette hanging from his mouth said as he hurried past Alice.

"No worries, mate," she replied using the geographical jargon, but not quite grasping it. The southern drawl, the distinguishable American accent, heavily covered her words. As she preceded to the ticket booth that allowed her entrance on the train of destiny, the same young man slowed down to join her dragging footsteps.

"Bloody hell, itŐs leaving. It will be another ten minutes before the next," he exclaimed, looking towards Alice. "Say, where ya from, mate?"

"From the states," she quickly replied without any emotion or hint of concern, secretly hoping he would not continue to chat. She had been asked the same line of questioning and, quite frankly, she was tired of it. Their pace slowed down, since they had already missed the train. The others surrounding Alice and the young man continued to race, oblivious to the leaving train.

"Well, I don't know what brings you here, but it's sure good to have ya. Want a fag, while we wait for the next train?" he asked while lighting another cigarette.

"No, I don't smoke," she replied, while checking around for a place to sit and possibly escape the chatter of her new acquaintance.

"Ya don't. You one of those health nuts? Well, I guess we all are too. But here we just mix it all together: a little smoke, a little drink, a little exercise and it all equals to a good livin'. Go on and have one, it won't kill ya."

Alice looked around and noticed that everyone on the platform was lighting up or stomping out their cigarette, the same people she had just passed in the tunnels. When her eyes made it back to the young man, he held out the cigarette to her. She thought of the people she had passed, laughing, chatting, smoking and staring. So she thought, what the hell, maybe she'd blend in better. As she took a drag on the cigarette, she immediately began to cough.

"Slow down there, girl. I should have warned you, these are pretty strong," he jokingly said as he patted her on the back. "Ya gotta learn to take small puffs, small steps, so ya won't get strangled."

Alice looked up after regaining her breath and found the same billboard staring at her: save packs of money and your life. She stamped out the fag or cigarette or whatever they called them here and turned to look at her new acquaintance. Although she wanted to blend with her surroundings, she wanted her life much more.

"I guess I'll never learn. I don't usually take small steps, and I kinda want to save my life, mate," she replied, joking yet sincere, as they both prepared to board the train pulling up.