Watermelon

He entered the house in a hustle, went directly to the family room and turned on the tv. As he waited for the picture to kick on he set his satchel on the floor, took off his suit jacket and draped it over the back of a chair. The tv was now fired up and he turned to the channel for the ballgame.

It was baseball, early October for a playoff game and his team was playing. He didn’t watch much regular season baseball because with 162 regular season games there was absolutely no urgency to any of them. But today, playoffs, and a mid-day game. He managed to finagle his way out of a late morning meeting and leave the office under the guise of a work appointment. With a lack of probing questions, he left, traveled directly home to watch the game where it was in the early innings and was close.

That first commercial break he dashed off to change into sweatpants and t-shirt. That second commercial break found him rummaging around the refrigerator for lunch. That’s when he saw the unexpected treasure. A watermelon! All chilled off in the frigid air of the fridge. He had been thinking of a sandwich, but he’d gladly upgrade to watermelon, at least for one slice before getting into a lunch entrée.

He set out a plate, grabbed a good knife, removed the beautiful green gourd from the fridge to the countertop. He cut off the nub, a big piece, reduced that down to bitable chunks, covered the cut melon with plastic wrap and returned it to the fridge. He delightfully resumed watching the game as his team was getting runners on base and scoring runs with a clever batch of hits and smart base running. His team was winning and they’d closed out their half inning having scored several runs. Elated at the gaming action he went back for a second slice of watermelon. 

On it went late into the game. With his team ahead the adrenaline was flowing and he quickly progressed through the watermelon. The kitchen garbage was loaded with spent watermelon rind. His chin sticky with melon juice, as was the back of his hand which had been deftly and frequently deployed to stem the flow of dribble mid-consumption. He had forsaken his lunch entrée entirely and found himself in the 9^thinning, game still close, the enemy team had rallied and it was clutch time. His team must hold on or their season would end in defeat. Suspense built. With the game hanging in the balance the phone rang. His bride! He loved this one more than baseball itself. He smiled and took the call.

“Hi, I thought you might be home watching the game,” she said, the reciprocating smile could be heard in her voice.

“Yes, we’re winning but it’s close,” he responded attaching himself with the inclusive pronoun.

“Good, then I’ll be quick. Timmy and Mary are coming for dinner tonight. You don’t need to do anything, they’re bringing lasagna, cake and drinks. It’ll be a fun evening. Oh, I bought a watermelon for tonight. Don’t eat it before then. See you in a little bit,” and she hung up.

The watermelon! The conundrum here was thick. The game was on the line and he didn’t dare miss any of it. But he loved his sweet pea and didn’t want to disappoint her. It was imperative he replace the watermelon carcass, there was nothing left, he’d consumed the entire thing. His self-restraint had been so lacking that he’d even slurped up the residual juice from the cutting plate. He needed to leave immediately, drive to the store, brave the unpleasantly busy confines of the grocery store, hunt down a new, ripe replacement watermelon and place it in the refrigerator just like its predecessor. But the game! No, he must go now, cannot watch the game further, there wasn’t time for both.

The clock ticked. Soon, with further delay he’d surely not have enough time to return from the watermelon replacement-mission unnoticed. His mind was blank, even more blank than usual. The crowd on tv roared, the game was no longer going well, the other team scored and the game was tied. Make a decision.

[Inspired by a high school classmate who admitted to have once eaten an entire watermelon in one sitting.]

Free Diving

It was so peaceful. He was free diving in warm, clear tropical water. The fish were abundant, visibility outstanding and he dove down deeper to peruse the shells on the ocean’s sandy bottom. The depth was 30 feet, manageable, but he had to be careful not to lapse out from lack of oxygen. This was a fun sport, but was not a forgiving one.

He grabbed a beautiful, vacated abalone shell and began a modest rate of ascent. His flippers were propelling him, but not so fast as to dangerously put himself at risk of decompression sickness while ascending. As the pressure of the water above him decreased on his approach to the surface he slowly allowed a small trickle of air bubbles to escape his lips, a habit picked up from scuba diving, a slow exhale during ascent. He looked down taking a moment to hover in the water as if floating in air. A stingray fluttered about in the sand and a crab with a sideways saunter. The bright sun was shining diffusely through the water. With his face turned up directly toward the sky, eyes closed, he breached the water’s surface and took a deep, delicious breath of air. He opened his eyes.

‘What the heck is going on? Where am I,’ wondered the free diver. He was not in the tropics. He wasn’t in the ocean or some warm tropical sea. He was wearing jeans, a t-shirt and had awakened in the cab of his car. A car accident! He was regaining consciousness from having passed out from a car crash.

The air bags had deployed leaving visibility only through the driver’s side window. Before fully regaining himself he thought momentarily that this is what it might look like for an astronaut awakening from a deep sleep, the darkened cab with only the one partially exposed window mimicked what he figured to be comparable to a space capsule. Nope, just a car accident. Sirens could be heard in the distance. He hoped there’d be no additional cars colliding with his vehicle now immobilized in the middle of the intersection.

The seriousness of the situation was taking root. He had been listening to sports talk radio and it was still on, now competing audibly with the wounded bleating of the car’s engine. In the face of this new development he lost interest in the commentary about last night’s playoff basketball game and turned off the radio. The engine was still running and sounded odd, plus there was a smell of burnt rubber and chemicals. He turned off the car. He wanted to get out but was concerned about his safety from oncoming traffic. He tried looking out the window, but the deployed air bags obstructed the view. He decided to chance it, open the door and take a look. This initial effort was negated by a compromised element of the door or its latching device. At this point he sat back and wondered if he was hurt in any way. A quick review revealed no breaks, no sharp pains, only a little blood on his right knee from scraping on the keys hanging in the ignition. His head was in a fog, but his early assessment was that he was OK.

A second effort to open the door, boosted with a shoulder bump, proved successful. Looking around, there were no cars coming, many had remained at their traffic stops. He grabbed his phone off the floor, keys and sunglasses, stepped out of the vehicle and took a quick look around. The car had been pushed 90-degrees to the left, the other car had hopped the curb and run into a traffic pole knocking it down.

‘Well shoot, this is a crummy start to the day. Let’s get out of traffic, sit on the curb over there and see what happens next,’ so went his mental dialogue. He walked to the curb, sat down and looked at the other car. The driver’s door was open and the driver was on the phone. Eye contact had not yet been made.

[The car accident sequence is based on a recent occurrence.]