It was a quiet morning and I was enjoying the luxury of being able to head into work a bit later than usual. I was in the kitchen having a cup of coffee and mindlessly scrolling news websites to see if I had missed anything in the last forty seconds or so when Terri darted into the room.
“I need to grab a quick snack, just something to tide me over until lunch,” she said, yanking open the refrigerator door.
I watched the scene with some confusion, not necessarily a new state for me, but I was genuinely puzzled by all the hustle and bustle.
“Darn,” she said, not finding anything sufficient in the refrigerator. She slammed the fridge shut and raced to the counter where she grabbed a banana.
“Have a big Zoom call early today?” I asked, wondering if she was this frantic every day after I left for the office.
“No, no, my call is later,” she said in between mouthfuls of the banana. “But I’m running late for my commute.”
“Oh, I see,” I said.
I wasn’t sure what to do with that, or where to go with it, being that Terri had been working from home since last March. The commute from the bedroom down to the home office lasted maybe thirty seconds, longer I guess if Butch was asleep at the bottom of the stairs and you stepped on him. Maybe some kind of pandemic induced confusion had overtaken her.
She dropped the banana peel in the garbage and raced out of the kitchen. I finished my coffee then went upstairs to see how the “commute” preparations were going. I walked into the bedroom and it was full on frantic as Terri went from the bathroom to the closet and back again, getting dressed, business casual, and applying makeup.
So this is what I’m missing when I’ve gone to work, I thought.
In a few minutes she was done and ready to go, although I’m not sure to where. She was out of the bedroom with me trailing her.
“Would it be all right to go with you?” I asked, “On your commute.”
“Sure, but you have to keep up. I have it timed down to the minute to get back here to start work on time. I don’t want you slowing me down,” she said.
I hadn’t experienced this combination of curiousity and fear since our daughter insisted the chipmunk in the back yard was talking to her when she was six.
“I’ll try not to be a drag,” I said, following Terri’s cue and grabbing a jacket and mask and wondering if we were actually leaving the house.
Terri yanked open the front door, answering that question, and scampered down the front steps. I was behind her and made it to the last step when I stopped cold, dumbfounded by the scene in front of me. There on the sidewalk dozens of people were power and speed walking, some with cups of coffee, others on their phones, up and down both sides of the street.
Terri motored down our walkway and stopped just short of the sidewalk. I pulled up behind her, puzzled.
“We need to wait for an opening to merge,” she said, staring to her left like she was trying to dart onto an LA freeway.
“Okay, quick, let’s go,” she yelled, racing out into “traffic” with me behind her. I stumbled forward, tenser than I had been in weeks. And the guy who a second ago appeared to be a block away was closing fast on us.
“Couldn’t wait another three seconds, could you lady?” he yelled from behind his mask as he jutted out to our left and passed. “You know how hard it is to socially distance when you cut into traffic?”
He glared at Terri as he passed and she yelled back.
“Stick it, pal. You ain’t going anywhere important,” she said, as he power walked ahead of us.
I pulled alongside Terri and tried to keep up, my calves aching from the pace.
“Where are all these people going?” I asked.
“Work,” Terri said. “Where do you think?”
I felt a presence over my left shoulder and turned to see a woman giving me a death stare over her mask.
“Ever hear of keep right except to pass?” she said.
Right behind her was a guy in a bathrobe wearing running shoes.
“You want to camp go to the mountains,” he yelled, “let’s go, get over.”
I slipped to my right and fell in behind Terri as the two of them passed me.
“What on earth is all this, and where are we going?” I asked.
“We’re going to the coffee shop,” Terri said. “So are a bunch of these people. It’s peak fake commute rush hour, that’s why it’s so busy.”
“Oh, fake commute rush hour,” I said, as if I believed it.
“I’ve been doing mine for awhile. I just needed some way to make it clear to myself that I was starting my work day at home. You know, a dividing line between home and work,” she said.
We motored along for a couple of more blocks to the coffee shop and I followed Terri’s lead and we walked into the drive-thru lane and queued up behind a half-dozen people. Two more came up right behind us.
“I had no idea,” I said.
“Oh, and it’s not even that busy here today,” she said.
“No, I mean, I had no idea that any of this was going on,” I said.
“What did you expect, that everyone was just going to go from the bedroom to the home work space forever?” she asked. “You need something to clear your mind before starting the day or you’ll go crazy.”
When it was our turn I moved closer to the board to order but Terri nudged me aside.
“No, stay in the passenger seat,” she said. “I’ll order, they know me here.”
“Yes, sorry. I’m new,” I said, as she ordered for the two of us.
We got back on the sidewalk and and headed away from our house.
“Umm, what’s the next stop?” I asked.
“Home, but I’m taking the longer way, past the park. It’s nicer. We can get a little more fresh air.”
Ten minutes later we were heading back home, sipping coffee and enjoying the fake commute. We tuned a corner a few blocks from the house and “traffic” was snarled. Across the street commuters were rubbernecking and pointing.
“Probably that kid with the dogs,” Terri said. “He walks like ten of them and they tie up traffic and poop on the sidewalk.”
“Come on, let’s get a move on,” someone yelled from behind us.
I heard barking from up ahead and raised voices. The grumbling grew in the crowd and across the street people slowed and shook their heads.
“And this is supposed to be relaxing, right?” I asked.