Career Advice and Public Transit

Red, green, navy blue; I think it needs more green- lime green? Evergreen? Maybe a mix. I wipe the colored residue from my palms. It seems like a fitting tribute so far. So far…needs more green.

“What are you drawing?” a man in a slick business asks me.

“It’s a homage, I guess you could say.”

There once was a man who dressed as a boat captain and stood on the corner of a street waiting for a ship that would never appear. He stood there proudly with his ash colored beard and tattered sailor’s hat. A small pile of money lay near his feet; left by those who confused him for someone who was begging for spare change. He just went on staring and staring. I saw him on that corner every day as I walked to the bus stop. I finally got tired of wondering and asked him what he was doing there.

“Can’t ya tell lass?” he asked me “I’m giving sail boat rides; it’s the city’s oldest form of transportation. Aye, I remember the old days when I gave rides to the wealthiest folks in town on their way to the opera houses or the pie eating contests. The sewers used to be the only way to travel!”

“Wow,” I said “I was expecting you to be a Vietnam vet with some kind of boat related post-traumatic stress or something.”

“Nah, nothin’ like that; just a man trying to make a humble living. So, will you be needing a ride this morning?”

I could see my bus rumbling towards the stop in the distance.

“I would love to but-”

“FANTASTIC!”

The captain stepped back from the rusty doors that were built into the sidewalk beneath his feet. He flipped through a giant ring of keys that would make any high school janitor blush with envy until he found a long copper colored key. The key slid into the padlock and the Admiral opened rusted doors that screeched like a pterodactyl that had caught on fire.

“Look, Captain-”

“I’m an Admiral! The Admiral said.

“Admiral, I really can’t miss my bus.”

“Sorry ma’am, could you repeat that? I’m just so excited to have my first passenger in nearly forty years!”

I looked into the Admiral’s blue oval eyes; they had the same kind of sadness behind them that my grandfather’s eyes had the local gangs would throw his walker onto his roof.

“I said ‘I can’t wait!’ What’s your fare?”

The Admiral closed his left eye and stuck out his tongue; I came to know this as his “thinkin’ face”

“Two nickels,” he finally said after a few minutes of deliberation “or a slice of pie!”
I dug through the bowels of my bottomless bag and dug out two shiny nickels.

“Hmm…what happened to the pictures of the buffaloes?” he asked me.

Beneath the doors was an old ladder that led down to sewers below. I carefully stepped down one, two, three rusted rungs then slipped down to the bottom.

“Careful there lass!” the Admiral said.

“I’m good, don’t worry,” I said as I rubbed my backside.

The boat looked like it was built by a bored child on a summer afternoon. Crooked nails jutted out like a porcupine’s quills. The paint appeared to have been neglected for years judging by the chipping layer of school house red paint. I inspected the hull, which had been hastily repaired by duct tape and bubblegum.

I really wished I had caught the bus in that moment.

Or, kept ignoring the Admiral and walked to the bus stop.

Or, finished college.

Or, not loaned my brother that money.

“Are ya ready to go lass?”

The boat bobbed up and down in the dirty water as I gently stepped onto its unstable interior.

“Jesus, how do you put up with this smell?” I asked.

“After awhile, it begins to smell like home. Ya start to wonder how you ever lived without the smell of people’s droppings around ya at all times. So, where to lass?”

“Oh, I need to get to Jittery Joe’s Java Joint on 5th street.”

“Then away we go!”

The Admiral looked out along his domain and breathed in the filthy air. He looked proud as he raised his make-shift craft’s sail. He flicked on a large fan attached to the back of the boat that gently bloated the sail with an artificial gust of wind.

“So, ya make coffee do ya?” The Admiral asked.

“Yup, I’m a barista.” I said.

“A ba-what? In my time they were coffee makers. Coffee back then was called ‘the Devil’s drink!’ Can ya believe that? There was only one place in the city where you could find it, but it was never in the same place twice! You could always find it though; all ya had to do was follow the sound of wild jazz and the smell of burning opium.”

I gazed over the edge of the boat into the murky surface beneath us. I could barely make out my own reflection in the dim lighting, but I could see my indigo-colored glasses resting on my nose; my ordinarily red hair looked like a penny in a parking lot after it rains, due to the liquid mirror’s coloring.

“This sure brings back memories, lass,” The Admiral said.

“My name is Shannon,” I said.

“Aye lass, so many great memories. I gave a ride to F. Scott Fitzgerald once.” The Admiral said.

“The author?” I asked.

“He wrote a book?”

The Admiral continued to steer the boat down the urban Amazon. I tied my official barista apron around my waist as I waited to arrive.

“Admiral, are we getting closer?” I asked.

“Well, we have to make a quick stop at my girlfriend’s…ex-girlfriend’s, actually.”

“What? I’m already running late!”

“Look lass, I know this goes against the sailor’s code, but I have to prove a point to her! Sewer
transportation is lucrative business.”

“But it’s not! I only took this stupid boat ride because I missed the bus! I’d rather walk through glass than take a sewer boat!”

The Admiral’s face began to sag, as though it was weighed down by his many wrinkles. I immediately regretted what I said.

“I’m sorry,” I said “I overreacted, and it just smells so much down here, and I’ve been under a lot of stress lately.”

“Don’t apologize,” a voice said “you’re completely right.”

I looked into the water and saw a woman’s head floating along the right side of the boat; the head’s blond hair floated in the water like yellow seaweed. A pair of arms rose from the water’s surface and lifted the woman into the boat. I saw that the woman’s human body ended just below her navel and became the tail end of a fish.

All of the grace and beauty typically associated with mermaids was immediately erased from my mind as the overwhelming stench of half sewer-fish half sewer-human barbarically invaded my nostrils.

“Lucielle!” the Admiral cried “You see? I got a customer! I told you I could do it!”

“Zachary, we broke up two years ago. One customer in two years isn’t going to make me change my mind about you and your ridiculous job!”

“This is just the beginning though; she’ll recommend me to friends and family! Won’t you?”

I stayed silent.

“Even IF she told ANYONE it wouldn’t change anything, Zachary. I’ve moved on; my life is different now.”

“You’re not dating Todd are you? I’ve seen him charming you with that crocodile smile!”

“He’s an alligator man!”

“Oh, whatever!”

The three of us stood in a thick silence for a few seconds.

“Um…Zachary,” I said “I kinda have to get going.”

Zachary started up the sail’s fans without any of the dramatic flourishes that he used earlier. Lucielle climbed off of the boat and splashed back into the water.

“Please don’t come back,” she said.

Zachary did not respond.

After a few minutes of sailing, the boat stopped in front of a ladder to the streets above.

“Once you climb up that ladder you’ll be right in front of your coffee place,” Zachary said.

“Thank you…Admiral,” I said.

Zachary popped out a small smile.

“Is this what you want to do for the rest of your life? Be a…barracuda?”

“Barista,” I said “and no, no it’s not.”

“What do you want to do?” he asked.

And I told him the dream that I had kept in my head for years.

“I want to be a chalk artist,” I said “I’ve never told anybody that.”

The Admiral smiled. He flipped on his fan and the sail majestically filled with air.

“Good luck lass,” and with that, he was gone.

“So, this is the crazy guy?” the man in the business suit asks.

“He’s not crazy, he’s just a man with a dream…maybe he’s a little crazy.”

I placed the final touches on my drawing. The sidewalk was now adorned with a drawing of the Admiral standing in a metallic sewer pipe. In his arms he was carrying Lucielle and the two of them are locked in a passionate kiss as her blond hair rests on her shoulders. The Admiral’s right foot stands on the chest of a slain alligator man triumphantly.

I think it might just be perfect. Maybe it needs more green…