Left Hand Karma - Portfolio and Blog of a Freelance Web Developer living, working and playing in New York City

It was Friday, and naturally I was hungover. Thursday nights are an excellent time to sip/guzzle free wine at art gallery openings and I had capped the night off with rounds of $5 PBR and shot combos at a bar my friend works at in the Lower East Side. Tequila has for some reason been growing on me, so the dirty Mexican Well water was pouring down my throat all night like someone discarding dirty dish water out into the alley. Someone during the night put into question my yoga abilities and I was forced to awkwardly perform a headstand, impressing all the nay-saying locals but clearing out everyone at the bar area who was within 6 feet of me.

I was trashed when everyone decided it would be a great idea to go to Hiro Ballroom and watch Moby spin for a while. Everyone being those who didn’t have to work in 6 hours. I declined and instead took a taxi home with the roommates and ate $3 cheeseburger deluxe meals from God Bless deli in Greenpoint, a 24hr haven of delicious grill and deli foods just around the corner. It tasted just as good going down as it did coming up.

I found myself at work amidst a hurry of people, recalling that we were still in the process of moving from our old offices to this new building. That meant I still had computers to move. Just the thought of manual labor at such an early hour put me in a condition of feverish convulsions. I forced myself to pick up the hand-truck and head back to our old offices to pack up the remaining computers. I entered the second to last office with the electronic equipment and began packing them up. Exhausted and perspiring because people in this office apparently haven’t grown more than 3 layers of skin and had to blast the heat to stay alive, I felt like I was a slug baking in an oven. The heat made me realize even more that above all else I needed at nap. I checked my phone; it was only 10:15. Lunch wasn’t for another 2 hours. I needed to think. I sat down because I was in no position to do two things at once. What would Buddha do I thought? He would sleep in the shade of a giant tree is what he would do dammit, but I looked around and had no tree offering the cool escape of shade. I slammed my hands down on the desk and rested my head in defeat. Dammit brain, don’t fail me now, I will reward you with rest momentarily! I closed my eyes and realized the answer was literally right in front of me. I got up and proceeded to lay down under the desk, using it as my tree and shade. I rested my head on my coat, alerted the people in the office that I was going to nap, put my Ipod on the sleep playlist and fell blissfully into a coma.

6 or 7 songs must have played through, and I awoke to the melodious chorus of the Beta Band song Broken Up a Ding Dong. I was about to take a glorious stretch when over the music I heard the creaky door open and foreign footsteps enter the room. Usually everyone leaves the people in this office alone, plus we all moved to the new space, so I laid frozen, not willing to alert anyone not already forewarned of my nap where I now was positioned. I had my back to the door and was entirely exposed save for a large white board positioned against the front of the desk, providing the slightest bit of protection if someone should walk into the office and look over the desk. I dared not move a muscle, not even to peer under the desk to see if I could discern who the intruder might be. Slowly the maruader entered my napping oasis, pausing as if the scent of alcohol had permeated through my clothes, into the neighboring air and woefully up their nostrils. I paused my music as quietly as I could, half expecting to hear sniffing sounds alerting them to the presence of someone in the room.

I heard the voice of the intruder and in an instant took image of who it was. Possibly the worst person to come upon me, my own personal Velociraptor, was now standing over me. I started sweating and I feared the scent of last nights adventures might escape the captivity of my body and reveal its presence to the one HR woman in my office now hovering over me. I knew where the path of capture would lead me and I would be forced to succumb to the motherly disappointment that she would shower on me as punishment and it would be too much to bear, a giant talon of guilt piercing my body. I could do nothing but breathe silently and keep my thoughts far from the act to which I was currently endearing, hoping I wouldn’t get caught.

The scuffing of her shoes away from my enclosure relieved all pressure from the situation and I began to relax. I heard the door in desperate need of an oiling crack open and the fond obnoxious grandmother farewell close to the heart of HR woman cast over all the non-nappers in the room. It’s like a child who unknowingly spreads too much peanut butter on his sandwich, smothering any attempt that the jelly might have of providing any of it’s delicious flavors, and becoming so dominant that it’s difficult to chew. The child discovers this after the first bite, realizes that he has put too much on it, and learns to be more sparring. This women apparently loves peanut butter. She constantly mistakes people for the ruminant animals that overpopulate the woods in North America and are celebrated by being hunted. I for one do not appreciate being called one, nor do I understand how she confuses us with them. Here is a picture of one:

I emerged from the cove like the sun exhaling from behind the clouds, feeling slightly better physically but more so appreciative that I had escaped any detection. I asked my coworkers if she had seen me and they replied that she had come in and done the exact same thing three times before, never once laying her eyes on me. I left the office relieved, Pedialyte and computer-cart in hand, unaware that I would be spending the rest of the day crouched under desks hooking up computers.