Tom Lawson woke-up.
The ceiling was white. The walls were white. He was sick. It felt like a large rock, serrated with malcontent, was cutting its way through his fry and burger stuffed guts.
He checked the time – 8:00. Mentally calculating – half hour to get ready – half hour on the first bus — half hour on the second – one hour on the train. It all equaled little time to waste. He had to be at work for 11.
Checking the time again – 8:15.
He visualized the rock tearing his intestines open as he dragged himself out of bed. Crud and digestive juices flooded his body cavity.
Work. He had to get to work.
If he didn’t go, his boss would chew him out. He’d be short money for food, or bills, or some emergency that could only happen to him. Also, his boss would chew him out again when he finally did go.
He skipped breakfast. The only way to get food in him would be via a hand down his throat. Instead, he took some water and Advil and hoped for the best.
It was like he was teleporting. From his house he somehow ended up on the first bus, and from the first bus he somehow ended up on the second, and from the second, he somehow materialized on the train. He vaguely remembered standing shoulder-to-shoulder, gently bouncing, leaning left or right, but nothing more.
He collapsed on a seat at the back of the train, away from everyone. It was hard. Unforgiving.
Work. He had to get to work.
The train started to move – then stopped. Then it started – then it stopped. Start – then stop. People were getting on. People were getting off. People were everywhere. They were making the train hot. They were breathing in all the air. It was impossible to get a full, deep breathe.
Then he saw it. It was like the movies he’d seen where the beautiful lady came down the stairs, but you can’t see her face. She stops half-way down, taking up the entire shot, and in place of her face is a heavenly ball of light.
Except it wasn’t a beautiful lady. It was him. Doug Ford. The man for whom nothing was off the table when it came to getting the job done. The man who wasn’t scared to stand up to doctors who cared more about their dollars than patients.
The train was passing by a billboard of him. He was wearing a navy-blue suit with a white dress shirt and blood-red tie. His hair was slicked back, and he was standing on a podium in front of a legion of followers.
Doug turned to him. At first, he was scared. Yes, his smile was perfect – it wasn’t too big, wasn’t too small – but people on billboards don’t turn towards you. Then he winked at him. An all-knowing wink that said, ‘You got this.’ ‘Everything – all of it – is going to be okay.’ There was a small twinkle in it.
Doug was a man of grit, courage, determination. A man who wouldn’t blink at charging through Hell and back again, if needed. If Doug said he’s got it, then he’s got it. If Doug said everything was going to be okay, then everything was going to be okay.
Get ready world. Tom was here. In another few minutes he’d be at work stocking shelves like no one’s business.
The train was slowing down. Tom’s stop was approaching. He held his head up high and marched towards the doors. They slip open with a short but commanding whoosh. A large crowd was standing in front of him, eager to get on.
Time to get to work.
He took a step forward and felt his new confidence disappear. The rock in his stomach wasn’t a rock. It was a bomb. Stepping off the train had somehow triggered its explosion. Now its contents were hurling their way up his throat.
There was no time to react. Tom reflexively opened his mouth. Vomit shot out like water from a firehose, but chunky and orange.
A girl screamed. The crowd stepped back. They stared at him as he stared at them, neither party knowing what to do. Tom could feel his cheeks turning red.
He bolted to his right. Stairs appeared. Keeping his head down, he took two at a time, doing his best to push the experience out of his mind. A moment later – fresh air – freedom – an opportunity to forget everything that happened. He slowed down, quickly becoming one of the many millions crawling through the city streets.
Tom strolled into work shortly after, on time and with a smile. His morning could’ve gone a little better, but everything was going to be okay.