My shoes are perfectly polished. I’ve got on a neck-tie. It’s grey. I love red ties, but they’re so common. I hate being common. My pants are grey. I need to match. I am allergic to color blocking and anything multi-colored. It feels awkward to dress like a rainbow or a Christmas tree. I am in Grey and black only.

I am a guest today set to address a group of inmates at a Maximum Security Facility two hours away. I sometimes embrace discipline. I wanna be there an hour early. The program is called Kairos. Kairos is a Greek word that means “God’s time”. I have participated in the Kairos retreat for quite some time. They love my heavy accent. They love my eloquent religious rhetoric too. Damn it, I am just loveable. If you don’t like me, you’re the type of person I am least interested in. 

The time is 6.30 am. I am driving along King Street. King Street is the longest street in this small town of Windsor, North Carolina. I am to drive to a town near Raleigh. I have never been there before. I am confident that my GPS will lead me. It directs me in a manner that suggests it has been there before. I turn left onto US-17 S/E which merges me on to Interstate US 64 west.

For some reason, I feel so blessed. I am very enthusiastic. The music in my car is on full blast and I am dancing, as best as one can in a car. I’m so distracted I don’t realize that am driving at 71 M/h. The speed limit is 55. I see it now but who cares? I don’t. I feel like the center of the universe. Like every other creation revolves around me. I tell myself that everyone else was created to entertain me. People tell me I’ve got a gorgeous smile. They stare adoringly at my dental formula. Most say am good looking. One lady, though, never noticed my beauty. I was 14. I think I liked her. No, I liked her. She did not like me. She once insulted me. She boldly reprimanded me and told me that I looked like a Warthog. Gosh, I hate warthogs. A warthog is a wild pig. They are ugly. Real ugly. She was also kind enough to offer me advice. She told me to look at myself, and then at her and judge whether we would match. I am obedient. I looked at myself, then at her. And I made a judgment. I indeed looked like a warthog. I only lacked a tail.

I pass the Roanoke River basin. I am near a town called Williamston. I am still driving past the speed limit. I notice a Dodge behind me. It’s moving fast. It’s a state trooper. I peer at the police officer through my rear mirror. He is in Sunglasses. He is not smiling. This frustrates my ego. I am no longer the center of the universe. He is. My fate is sorely in his hands. I need to be humble. I reduce my speed to 55 M/h. He is still following me. Could he be admiring my car? No. I don’t have a fancy car. It’s a Honda Civic 2010 model. It has 120,000 miles on it. Why isn’t he pulling me up? I am psychologically prepared for the blue lights and heartbreaking sirens.

To be honest, I feel guilty. I am now suspicious. Why is he following me? What is he up to? I notice my speed is now at 70. I accelerate. I pass exit 514. The cop is right behind me. I need to avoid him. I follow exit 512 and after the stop sign, I turn left towards Greenville. Gosh, he is right behind me. I am tensed. I don’t know where I am going. My GPS is telling me to make a U-turn.  I turn left towards Ribeye’s Steak House. The restaurant is closed. It is now 6.45 am. I make another left. I am at the parking lot of the Holiday Inn. I don’t see the cop. I am victorious. I am blessed. I breathe in and out. I am now relaxed. Just as I set to reverse the car and proceed with my Journey, a different cop car pulls up. This car is written ‘Sheriff, Martin County’. I feel like breaking down.   (To be continued).

Written by Sam Elly