There's no limit when you're contantly winning. Part II

Read part 1 here

I'm out the door by 7:45, stomach full of a home made cure trying to kill the violent toxins that still resonate in my stomach from the night before, eager to get through the day without any hiccups.

Hailing a cab at 7:45am during rush hour, downtown, is a challenge to say the least. Hailing a cab with a massive hangover, tucking my shirt in with my coat hanging in my mouth, is a whole different level. The streets are filled with busy bodies shuffling to and from, I can smell the street venders pushing out their meals to the work force, and listening to the lines of traffic honking horns, squeeling tires, and loud engines are escalating the growing migraine. I pop another Advil in my mouth and it goes down with ease. The sky is drizzling rain, finishing up its morning shower. It brings out a pungent smell of the city; a mixture of exhaust fumes, food, coffee, cigarettes, and wet asphalt. The smell of home, not such a bad one after all.

Luck is on my side this morning apparently; an empty cab stops in front of me not after 5 minutes of standing on the sidewalk, thank god. Coat still in my mouth, I hop in. "I need to get to 7th and Grande as quick as possible." The cabby looks back at me, eyes blank with a look on his face that can only mean he's heard that from every fare before me this morning. "No problem buddy, 'ts all 'bout the movement of the herd, traffic's gotta get goin' here any minute", his accent is thick, not very distinct. All cabbies that don't have turbans on their head sound like they are from some where different each time.

Traffic drudges along slowly and my watch shows I am late, 8:00 now. This isn't the first time I am late, but that is just the issue. Enough tardiness and absences will lead up to negative attention, that's not something I can afford. I am strangely responsible when it comes to work, usually good about being on time and banging out the day with ease, but these days and in this job market I can't afford to have any attention other than occasional nods from piers and small talk about the progress in our department. 8:06.

8:13am: The cab pulls over, we have arrrived at 5th and Grande finally. I throw the cabby $20, tell him to keep it, and hustle my ass towards the doors of the Pier 9 building.

By 8:20 am I am clocked in and sitting at my chair, computer whizzing awake and waiting for me to bang at it's keys for the next 8 hours. Within a few minutes though my body reminds me about all the liquids I sloshed down my throat before I got to work. I get up and turn around to make my way to the bathroom when I see Jim barreling down the hallway, a very familiar act for the both of us indeed. Unlike him though I was dressed completely when I got to my desk. His ruffled up shirt and undone shoe laces showed lack of commitment. Amateur!

"How ya feeling?" I asked sarcastically, half expecting a middle finger or some sort of snide remark, instead he looked at me with a smirk like he just robbed a leprechaun of his precious treasure and then crippled him with a baseball bat. "Either you got laid, or the bonds that your grandmother got you when you were 14 just matured and you can buy that Walkman you always wanted."

Jim gives me a "Ha-Ha, Fuck you." as he throws himself into his chair. "But last night was inane! What happened to you? We were all sitting at the bar and then you just ducked out without a word, do tell."

To be continued...