The Ride

When I awoke it was to the madcap laughter of someone I hated once upon a time.

It was nighttime, or it was dark at least. I wasn’t sure, couldn’t be sure, as I was still trying to get my bearings.

There was more laughter. I looked ahead and saw rails of light moving towards me in vague pairs. I blinked. My eyes only gave me a dim vantage point of what was in front of me.

Laughter again- or being laughed at.

It was so nearly impossible to focus. My head was heavy, and bobbled as if it were cheap plastic connected by a shoddy spring. I attempted to reach out, but it took so much effort. I took in great gasps of air.

I struggled, I exerted, and when a huff of used air escaped my mouth, I no longer had any doubt that the giggling- the machine gun rattle of hilarity- was directed at me.

Rubbing my eyes was no use, when I blinked the shapes in front of me took on a view as if someone had blanketed my eyes with Scotch tape. Things could be made out if guessed at, but nothing was distinct.

Peripherally, the lights continued to approach me in haphazard wave. And as I sought to make sense of all this, my stomach swayed, indicating a motion I could not reconcile.

More laughter, I wanted to follow it to its source, but fear gripped me, holding me fast. Also it enabled me to center on what was going on within my surroundings. Only inches away the sound emanated, just to my right, from someone, something? I couldn’t bear it, nor could I bear to confront whoever, or whatever it might have been.

When my fingers finally gained purchase on something in front of me it was thin, round and my hands gripped it almost instinctually.

A steering wheel.

The realization that I was behind the wheel, elicited more giggles from my passenger.

I looked ahead at the road once more, the lights still traveling my way from the other side of the median, in vain I tried to steer. My actions with the wheel seemed to have zero consequence, no physical impact on the car, no matter which way I turned the wheel.

Again I was scared. Whether it was sweat on the brow, perspiration under my arms, or the telltale sheen of my hands as they ran over the wheel my distress translated to the amusement of my fellow traveler.

Anguish and confusion relented, giving way to anger as I finally turned to face my fellow traveler.

Our eyes met, I felt disdain just as she did. How did I, we, end up here? She read the question in my eyes, and got to chuckle at my expense once last time.