I Kan't Spell

 
It's Saturday Morning

I walked out of my house today with gloves a scarf and my big blue pecoat. I was all bundled as if to tackle some arctic realm full of polar bears and penguins doing cute tricks.

I began my usual Saturday morning crawl towards work. The difference was that this wasn't a crawl. This jaunt was enjoyable. I had refrained from libations the night prior and found myself with a lease on the morning that I had not been able to enjoy for quite sometime. My eyes were daritng instead of lagging. My chin was up instead of down and my stomach searched for food instead of hiding from it. It was almost an hour after it had started to snow.

The snow was coming down sideways. The enjoyable snow had passed and it was now into mid morning windy snow period. I had forgotten my hat but the gloves were a nice addition. A homeless man asked me for 20 cents. As if 20 cents were the magical number that all the homeless men in Baltimore had decided on today. I thought about digging into my pockets with gloves on and how difficult it would be not to fumble the wad of twenties and then sort through for a single. We would then catch an awkward glance as 20 dollar bills were flying all over the street. I instead gave a kind but curt, "I'm sorry sir, but not right now." I felt awful knowing that it was snowing and that his plea for 20 cents was more than I could be bothered for.

I got to Key Highway. This is the dividing line between my walk to work. The neighborhoods and the cars fade away. It is just me, the harbor, the seagulls, the pigeons, the joggers, the stroller pushers with ski lift jackets, and the homeless people huddling and wondering to keep warm from here on in. It is the best part of my walk. I feel almost aristocratic and lucky that I get to walk by this mid-Atlantic treasure every morning. It's as if I got to stroll past the Washington Monument and through the Mall to work every morning. I never get tired of this half-mile.

The harbor was freezing over. The ice had made it's way out to the Clipper ship bows. There were no ice sickles yet hanging from the port holes or anchor pull hole, but you could feel them coming. The ice would not support anything more than a duck and since ducks can float I had my suspicions about that as well. The seagulls confirmed my suspicions, as they would rather perch than float. Not having the fatty underbelly of a duck their jaunts to the sea are for food and not for leisure. No seagull stood on the ice.

The trash could be seen collected under the ice. I loathe the trash in the harbor. I thought maybe if they gave the homeless people poles with nets and paid them minimum wage they could set up stations around the harbor for them to fish out trash. They could give them uniforms and a tiny little office next to that laughable police headquarters. Then I remembered that the homeless in this town aren't that kind of homeless. They would just as soon make 60 dollars a day begging as try to work a job that they would within a week not be able to commit to anymore.

I could smell the diesel being pumped into the Bay Lady as I hit the half mark of my walk through the harbor court. I looked out a two men cleaning the deck and waiters inside setting the tables for the customers that wouldn't come. The Aquarium and corporate eateries in the backdrop almost gave the sense of security. I turned and saw a man peeing on the Maryland's Pride Ben and Jerry's stand. He stopped as I walked by. I remembered where I was.

The Visitor center had the heat on full blast. There were water droplets running down the side of the all glass enclosement. I had never seen anyone in that building but felt proud that my tax dollars were keeping a symbol of sheer pointlessness well heated and it's confines only available to what seemed to be tourists.

I hit the foot of the pavilion/mall/tourist trap and heard Bob Marley from the speakers at Capitol City Brewing Company. I laughed ironically as the snow now felt like ice hitting me in the ear and my hair was frozen atop my head. M&S grill was already cooking something with cheese and onions as I waddled passed the Santa Hut that had yet to be dismantled but held all it's own extremities within it's glass walls. Inside there were balls of lights, trees, big red candy canes and Santa's throne (what else could it be but a throne) all decked out with power tools and bundled electrical strips.

Pratt Street welcomed me with it's usual nonsense turn signal making Light st. St. Paul st. and yet still Light st. for another 20 feet of merge. The sight impaired voice monitor that allows for safer street crossing confused even me when I entered the inner section. "The walk sign to cross Light St. is on." I always thought that it was the sign to cross Pratt St. I'm still pretty sure that I am correct.

My work is a few hundred yards from this point but I have to make an effort to dodge the sewer hole of death. It is the only sewer hole in Baltimore that reminds me of Korea. It must have the Grand Marquee Hotel sewage run from underneath it because the wretchedness that steams from within it is overwhelming. Horribly enough, no other sewer hole in Baltimore is more stood over.

I hit the door to my building. My friendly worthless security guards kindly ask me what I'll be bringing into the building today and I as always explain that I'll be brinn aging in nothing but my person. I once joked about this and said, "Oh...and this gun and bomb." They didn't take kindly to that so now we keep it professional. We exchange our standard sad Saturday smirk and I fill out the sign-in sheet and show ID; a formality I never grow tired of. I love showing my ID when I go to work because I feel important.

I enter into my office via the 3 keys cards and magnetically locked doors. I check my mailbox; empty. I check the office; empty. I head to our Avalon Fresh Brewed coffee machine and hit the "hot chocolate" button.

I think about the city that I love and how I want to own it. I want to own it all and invite people to play in it. I think about the people that live here and how little they know and ever will know about who runs the town and why and where to go to make things happen. I think about the homeless men asking me for 20 cents and how I would have helped them sneak into the Visitor Center of Baltimore to urinate there as opposed to the ice cream stand. I think about all this and then I start to write this post.
Link posted by JVMM : 1:13 PM