Where Are You Going Now?

Ha ha ha ha!

I'm churning air! But not at WECARE, but at ICD!!

It's like this. We're working on the computers in the lab, when a woman takes sick. Ms Tee gets alarmed and runs out for security. Security gets alarmed and calls the bosses. The bosses get alarmed and call the EMS. As the woman swoons and cries, we are asked to leave the lab and to go into a nearby classroom. What kind of bullshit it this??? They should take her sick ass into the classroom and allow us to continue on the computers. I could see if she was sprawled out on the floor, but all she is doing, from what I can see, is sitting in a chair, crying. The bosses are afraid that she will fall or something happen to her trying to move her. What the fuck?

I'm not heartless or anything, but dayum. We go into the classroom and wait. The urchins are charged, like horses in the gate on a racetrack. Nice. We wait until EMS comes and takes her ass away and then Ms Tee says we can return to--. Before she could finish the sentence the urchins burst from the classroom and race into the lab. I am nearly one of them. Remember, I have started several of the systems that these boneheads thought were out of order. That means that all of the working systems could be potentially taken, leaving me standing up and holding the bag.

I get to my original computer which is amazing. This never happens for me. I get back online and onto my email until 12:30. I go to Ms. Tee and tell her that I'm leaving for my medical session. She signs me out and I go to room 413 to get my metrocard. When I get there there is a line that crawls. I mean crawls. When I get to the cubicle and the clerk, this motherfucker tells me that I have to go to room 418 to get MY metrocard. All this time and I have to go to another room? I go to room 418 and it's closed for lunch. Can you believe this shit? That's WECARE for you. They are the biggest group of cockups in the world.

Fuck them. I don't need their stupid metrocard. Besides, I walk for lunch. I walk uptown in the falling rain (I'm wearing my TFP...my hobo That Fucking Poncho), which keeps the rain off my motherfucking back. I walk uptown from the Roach Motel to twenty third street, no mean feat, and then crosstown from Sixth Avenue to Second. Believe me when I tell you that when I get to ICD I'm a soggy mess, even with the FTP, you are not impervious to the rain, and prolonged exposure will do nothing but allow the rain in through the openings and below the hem.

I go to the third floor and to reception, not even knowing the name of my doctor. The receptionist is stunned. She checks the computer. "Hobobob, your doctor is named Dr. K." Thanks. I look at the clock. I am 45 minutes early. I take a seat, and guess what I do....I churn air. Motherfucker. Well, you know what I do at times like this. I take a nap. The receptionist calls out to me. "Go ahead into the back." I look at the clock. It's 2:25. Beautiful. I go to the back, and Doctor K comes out shortly. She is mature, not old but womanly, mildly attractive, brunette. She has a pleasant smile and extends her hand. "Mr. Hobobob, I'm pleased to meet you." I shake her hand in return.

I am in her office in no time, telling her of my past therapists and doctors here at ICD. She listens. I tell her about my fucked up life. She listens. I tell her about the rise and fall of my past. She listens. I tell her my social anxiety, my alcoholic dementia, my general anxiety and the buckets of pills that I take every day. She listens. Fuck. I can't seem to shake her. Then she gives me her first evaluation. Right on the button. Such an easy thing to get right in my opinion. Something that my past therapist, Dr. G. could never get right. I tell Dr. K about my need for documentation and right there she writes one up and hands it over to me. Beautiful.

We part and I head for the Way and uptown home. When I reached the elevator in The Spot Paula is standing with a group of others waiting. What's going on, I ask her. Is the elevator working. "Yes," Paula replies. "Nacho is using it to move garbage." Now?? She looks at me, shaking her head. "Are you just getting back from WECARE?" Of course Paula. "Oh, I'm so glad that I don't have to do that anymore." I know that, Paula. I nod. I want to say, keep rubbing it in and I'll pull your shirt over your head and punch you in the neck.

The elevator soon arrives and we all pile in with the superintendent. He is Russian and speaks like Arnold Swartzenegger. Paula says to him: "Super, do you have any more window air conditioners?" He shakes his head, "No, we are all out. They went fast." "Well could you put in a good word for me and hold one," Paula chimes. I wonder if she will offer him a blow job if he does she says it so sweetly. "I don't know," he says. "When they come." The elevator door opens and I step out into the hallway whose floor has been coated. Before it was stripped. Now it was coated with something that smelled like shit. What the fuck? I go to my door and go in without saying anything to Paula. She passes me and heads down the hall to the apartments of her crow friends.

I go home and make coffee. In the middle of setting up my Little Darling the doorbell rings loudly. God, that bell lights up the whole fucking room. Igor?? Should I rig for silent running? I think for a moment, then I go to the door with a carafe full of water in my hand. Paula is standing on the other side. She motions to come in, but I only open the door a crack. What do you want, Paula? "Oh!" She begins in an empty headed way. "He's downstairs. You need to go see him before he leaves and ask him." I look at her. I want to ask her who the fuck is she talking about? Igor? "You should ask him before they run out," she continues, her eyes looking over and around my head to see who I have in my room. "He still has air conditioners." Oh...you're talking about the super. "Yeah, he still has them. You should ask him for one." Is it one that you put in your window? "Yes...the real ones. You should tell them because you have nothing in your hot room." No Paula, I found one of those R2D2 type air circulators. It does pretty good. "You found one!!" She smiles. "That's funny. Well, go downstairs now and talk to him. He leaves at 5:00."

I wanted to tell her that the motherfucker lives upstairs in the penthouse, but I said goodnight and thanks instead, closing my door. I look at my window. I have a beautiful view of a brick wall. I've grown accustomed to staring at it every morning. Why would I want the mechanical ass of an air conditioner sticking out at me. Well, it will not be the ass, but the face. Still, who cares for that shit in my window. I like keeping the window open and listen to the old man shout NIGGERS out the window in the morning. Well, that's if his drunk ass isn't singing.

I make my coffee.

Hobobob