I, the vacation chauffeur, sat alone in the parking lot. My client was inside the drug store, buying toiletries.
My window was open. I was enjoying the breeze, eyes closed, head back upon the headrest, smelling the sweet, salt air of the Gulf shore and beaches. Listlessly daydreaming of scantily cla…uhhh…scratch that part…the “client” might read this.
The SUV slung in along side me, tires grinding the pavement, and came to a quick stop. Almost as fast, the driver door opened and closed. A semi-bald head, barely in view over the hood of the huge chariot, bolted into the store. (Obviously in urgent need of toiletries.)
There was an eerie silence. A quiet that only occurs when one is watching intently…or being watched. The only noise was the tic, tic, tic-tic of the catalytic converter as it cooled itself at rest from the heat of the 400hp engine.
I rolled my head left and studied the looming, blue behemoth. The huge, spotless SUV gleamed in the evening sun. It eclipsed my now tiny Budget-Rent-a-Car mid-size Pontiac. I felt inferior. I felt like poverty itself.
All the windows were black, impenetrable by the eye, and closed…except one which was partially open.
It was a vehicle of complete privacy and security. A family machine. One could see out, but not in. One could inflict great insult upon others from within its great, steel walls without fear. I felt as though I was being watched…mimicked…laughed at.
- I imagined there were children in there, in the back, whispering, making fun of me.
- I imagined there was a wife in there, in the front, buffing her French nails and snubbing her nose at me, three carat diamond swaying back and fourth as she buff, buff, buffed.
- I imagined there was a teenager in there, on the far side, flipping me the bird while bragging about it to his friend on his hi-tech cell phone.
- My self-conscious stress building rapidly, I wished I had a straw and spit wads so I could attack those elitist snobs!
Then, it appeared.
The nose.
sniff, sniff…whimper, sniff.
And I had to sketch it.
