Protect me from what I want

As my head hit the pillow last night the last embers of fading ethos sparked a comical idea. "If theres a power outage I'll have an excuse to not go to my stupid 8 a.m. meeting." Fate played its cruel trump card and delivered unto me the exact scenario. However upon achieving the situation there was no whimsy. Not a moment of delight. Rather, your hero found nothing but stark terror creeping over every waking inch of his spine. The only comfort was that my bodys superior attunement had given me at least a small amount of opportunity to actually be there in time by waking me at my normal rising hour. However for the Thursday meeting I typically have to wake a full hour earlier. So you can see the dillemma.

Bullet shower taken. I hopped in my golden chariot lips pursed with the sneer of a veteran sea captain. Charging up the banks of the western suburbs superhighway I was greeted by a slew of vessels all gripped in community gridlock. Yarr Matey!!, I screamed as the poor weather continued its thunderous symphony upon the roof of my car. From side to side a steered my craft. The 12 year old engine sputtered and roared angrily as I pushed it to the limits of its operational functionallity.

Fierce winds howled all about me, it seemed a thick fog was slowly encompassing the entire ship. A fog? NO, it be the internal temperature of the ship causing condensation within my viewing ports. I reached for my pack of tobacco courage and contemplated the dillemma. Seeing no other option I furiously forced down my port side window and stuck my dishevelled head out the window in order to continue my journey. A blinding spray caught my eyes and doused the interior of my ship. Channeling the spirit of Commodore John Paul Jones I looked for my opening.

The slew of other vessels began to thin with only 10 minutes to go till my meeting and still 6 miles out from the shore. I pushed the engine to 65 knots or 75 miles per hour for you land lubbers. A monstrous merchant ship rose up on my aft side and tried to swipe me. With a measure of skill and blind luck I swung behind him and navigated off the great highway.

I pushed through the straight of 53, a cursed place it is! I drifted through the shores of the mighty Algonquin! It was there that I saw my port! Land Ho! I screamed at the top my water and tobacco filled lungs. As soon as she beached I lept from the soaked and tired vessel. I decided to risk offending the gods and lady luck by abstaining from taking the time to recite the sailors prayer of thanks for safe journey.

At full sprint I quickly reached the hut where all the tribal cheiftans met. Thankfully my profficiency in sailing had only cost me five minutes of the meeting. My abscence was not mentioned in any form. I spoke no more than 15 words during the next hour and a half. As I now have the chance to reflect I wonder why I did not just call in sick.