HEY, FUCKERS #28: IT'S FUNNY THE DIFFERENCE A HALF AN HOUR MAKES

I had to go into work a half-hour early today. My commute turned out to be quite different from my usual schedule. First of all, and best of all, I got to park on the first floor of the parking garage today. That's pretty cool. But then I got to the train station. It was dark out. I read every morning while waiting for the train. I had to read by streetlight, which was awkward because I had to tilt the book in order to see the words.


There weren't a lot of people there. Once on the train I saw that there was plenty of room. Weird. I even got to have my own seat. At one point I glanced out the window and saw the dark skyscrapers of Chicago. The sun was lurking just behind them, not quite up and out of bed but getting there. The predawn light made the buildings look like dead, empty monoliths.


I took to the streets, and yet again I noticed that there was barely anyone walking to work. It was far from the seething throngs I see every day. Even the homeless guys were just showing up. They didn't have their cups out yet. It was kind of like they were showing up for work, and they were just getting settled in.


As soon as I got away from the river it was almost like a dead zone. I saw maybe a handful of people before I got to my office. It almost got to the point where I had to wonder if someone had closed down the streets to film something, and I was just walking around on their set. I kept expecting some angry director, possibly Michael Bay, to yell at me.


Just as I got to my floor I saw the front doors locked, and there was a pile of newspapers just outside. No one manned the receptionist's desk.


Very odd. I wonder if my commute home will have any differences. My initial thought is that there won't be, but I could be wrong. The difference this morning was a half an hour, and I'm leaving a half-hour early. It's funny the difference that makes.






















Hey, I bet you thought I forgot about HEY, FUCKERS. Well, I did, sort of. Remember when I got that new shift at my old job and decided to quit writing GOODNIGHT, FUCKERS because I'd be writing it at something like 8:30 or 9? That's not a bedtime. 10 or 11 or even midnight, those are fuckin' bedtimes. I got antsy and started this series, which could be written at any point in the day. But then I found myself in a position to resume GF, so HF fell by the wayside. Unfortunately my laptop is in the shop right now, and I'm chomping at the bit to write more GF's. Until I get it back, I might send off a few HF's if I have the time. The laptop isn't due back until Halloween.