So I've been attending the local community college for a few months now, but today was the first day I brought someone with me. Allan--a co-worker, friend, and fellow stat-classmate--needed a ride, so I obliged. As it turns out, today was also the first time I needed to take a major detour along the route, though perhaps not in the expected way.
The drive proved easy enough despite it being the first day of school for several local districts. Buses filled the neighborhood, and masses of children congregated at every corner (seemingly). After picking up Allan we both drove over to the park where I park and walk the remaining two miles to school. I'd debriefed Allan about this, so it came as no surprise. While humid the weather was otherwise pleasant, and since we were early we could take our time and enjoy the scenery. That is, until we reached the bridge to cross the stream.
Flashing back about three hours, I stirred awake around 5:00am to a raucous of rain pounding on the roof. I remember wondering if this was what it would sound like if you could sit inside a person's skull while they showered (strange I know, but next time you shower plug your ears and put your head under the stream and listen); or perhaps it is what people in India hear all the time during monsoon season (for anyone who has lived through the monsoon in India, feel free to share your thoughts). In any case it seemed to bode ill for my usual routine, so I texted Allan during breakfast to see if we could meet a little earlier than planned. The rain had stopped, but he agreed anyhow. As I said before all seemed well until we reached the bridge.
If you peered hard enough into the murky, muddy, raging stream, you might make out the concrete form of the bridge leading across the water. It's a very low-lying bridge under usual circumstances, with a walk-way only a few feet above the stream. This morning it was about a foot under water, with a dangerous-looking current cutting across it's top. This was bad news for Allan and I, since the nearest alternative bridge was at least a mile up-stream, and in the opposite direction of the college. Checking the time, we had about 40 minutes before class began, and the more I ran through the calculations in my mind, the less likely it seemed we could take the alternative and arrive on time. But having no stomach to risk a soggy, painful death on the rapids, we promptly wheeled around and made tracks for the other bridge.
The route to the second bridge is primarily up-hill the first half, and down-hill the second. Using an old ultra-marathoning trick I once heard, Allan and I walked the uphills and jogged the down-hills. It was a tricky exercise with back-packs and street clothes, but it worked for a while (though I think after three bouts of jogging Allan was through with the exercise). We made it to the second bridge in good time, but now had another 2-miles to cover in about 25 minutes. Cutting through forest and slick underbrush to cut corners on the trail, I felt drenched with sweat and oppressively short on time. Interestingly, we passed a deer along the way who eyed us with a curious look, as though it were strange any animal should be in a rush with no predator on its tail.
Perhaps the deer was on to something, because Allan seemed locked in one speed no matter how far ahead I got. "Come along Allan, almost there," I called back on multiple occasions, but no encouragement or insisting on my part seemed capable of quickening his steps. So I changed tactics and slowed down until he caught up. From there I gradually became faster again, hoping Allan might too so we wouldn't be late. But this also did not work, and soon I was again 20 yards ahead (a great situation in a race, but a terrible one when you and someone else are running late).
Finally the school came in sight, and with perhaps two minutes before class I thought it might prove decisive in getting Allan to cover the remaining meters at a quicker clip. Yet if anything he seemed to slow further, which wasn't all bad because we were basically there.
As we climbed the stairs to class I turned to him, and wiping sweat from my brow said, "Well sir, I suppose there's no sense in rushing you is there."
To this he replied simply, "No, not really."
About two minutes after class began, we managed to enter the room and find a seat without incident. Attendance wasn't taken for a long while after that, and we missed nothing of importance. So everything turned out well in the end.
Thus our unexpected detour came to an end. At the time it felt a bit disconcerting to have routine so wholly altered, but looking back I think it proved a right-excellent adventure. We each found ourselves made uncomfortable by something, but managed to improvise and reach our destination in one piece. Of this I am happy, and while I hope our next walk to college is more routine, the unexpected can certainly make for an interesting morning.
Happy Tuesday, friends :)
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