A short fictionalized story I wrote for a contest.  I didn't win, by the way.... but, I did get some some great feedback, and several people wanted to read more. That's what I like... leave 'em wanting more. 

  

The day I played hooky from work.

I am usually a straight-as-an arrow sort of employee.  It’s not that I am a saint, but that I enjoy having a roof over my head, and filling my ever-bulging middle with sustenance.  As such, I rarely take sick days, even when I should.  Heaven forbid the occasional mental health day. 

It’s not surprising then, the one and only day I played hooky from work, life spanked me back, hard.  Call it instant Karma.  

One fine spring Tuesday, two of my friends begged me to join them on a day trip.  The plan was simple; we would each call in sick to work, drive down to Illinois, catch the train, and spend the entire day as guests of the windy city.  I gave in, for no other reason than I am a single man and they are two beautiful and intelligent women.  It’s hard for me to say no to such, ever, even when it flies in the face of my ethical belief system.  Such is the fall of man.

We took the always-congested toll way, to the Elgin exit.  The Metratrain’s northern most departure point was Big Timber, the name that the girls found as a constant source of amusement.  I parked my grey Chevrolet in the parking ramp, and we scrambled to the ticket-taking place to get our tickets.  We climbed aboard the train just in time. 

“ALL ‘Board!”

The train ride into Union Station was long.  However, once there, we frolicked as tourists.  We ate real Chicago-style hotdogs, climbed the Willis Tower, toured Millennium Park, took a cab to Navy Pier, and finished our day eating stuffed Chicago pizza at a pub on Michigan Avenue.  It was a perfect day.  By late afternoon, we hurried to catch the last train back. 

The sun was setting with brilliant, florescent colors as the train again stopped at the Big Timber station.  This signaled the end of our train journey.  Exhausted but exalted, we stumbled from the train platform, out to the cold, grey parking ramp.  I reached into my inside jacket pocket to fish out my keys.

Wait a second!  Where are my keys? 

Cell phone.  Wallet.  Breath Mints.  Check. 

No happy jingle of car keys awaited me. 

OH, OH! 

I sprinted to where I parked the car.  It was gone!  I left my keys in the car and someone stole it!  

I panicked.  Soon, we were all on cell phones trying to figure out what to do next.  I finally called the police, and it took an Illinois state patrol officer minutes to arrive.  The good news?  There is no good news.  I sat down on the curb and like a man beaten down, wept. 

We spent that night at a near-by motel.  I didn’t sleep as I deliberated how could I ever recover, and most importantly, how to get us back home.  All seemed hopeless.

The next morning I called into work again, this time to admit to my boss that I lied when I called in sick.  He was extremely upset with me, and promised severe consequences when I returned.  I apologized repeatedly, and tried to assure him it would never happen again.  He seemed satisfied with my apology.  Then he asked if I needed a ride back home.  Like a bad puppy, I was ever so grateful for his kindness. 

Four hours later, Jerry showed up in his black crew cab truck.  We three climbed into the open doors as weary travelers.  Jerry smiled and asked me where I had last left the car.  I described the train depot.  He made a quick detour to scout out the scene of the crime. 

When we pulled in again to the parking ramp, I showed him where we had parked the car.  Just then, the train pulled out from the platform on its next voyage.  That’s when I happened to see another parking ramp on the other side of the tracks.  From my vantage point, I could just make out the backside of my grey car. 

I ran under the pedestrian tunnel to the other side of the train tracks, and then to my lone standing automobile.

There laid the keys, not three feet from the front of the car.  They were right on the pavement where they must have fallen from my pocket.  No one picked them up.  No one stole my car.  Hello, irony?  Meet our author….