It's 5:06 on a Tuesday morning. Outside, the birds are relentlessly chirping in the dying Elm tree that hovers over our modest trailer. The traffic on 98th street is ever increasing each time I step out to have a smoke. Somewhere, in the not too distant area, a loud bang goes off. Probably some guy who thinks its funny to blow his fireworks and wake his neighbors. In this area of town though, you never know what evil lurks in the early morning dawn. I've been up since 3 and should probably be getting dressed and heading to the Starbucks on Coors and I-25 which opens at 5:30. The Barista's there will be wondering where the Venti Americano with Vanilla and Whip Cream is.
Luckily I can put off work on my own time. Being the only employee with this company in Albuquerque allows me certain benefits. Sometimes I feel like the Kevin Costner character in Dances with Wolves. A lone guard on the frontier, attempting to create a life out of a broken outpost and rotting deer corpses in the water.
Nothing quite as dramatic as encounters with "savage Indians" and wild buffalo though. Just a plethora of slick haired salesmen, receivers and broken down delivery trucks to deal with as I travel over the orange barrelled streets of the Duke City and points elsewhere to deliver the product with a smile and a kind word here and there.
As I sip the Kirkland coffee purchased from Costco, I can hear the girl stirring in bed. She won't wake up for another 2 hours though to take the boy to the community center and then get ready for work at 10. By then I'll be well on my way to finishing the day and trying to figure out how to make a dollar turn into 5. No luck on that as of yet.
One more of the 20 dollar a carton Sandia Light cigarettes and I'll slip into some proper New Mexican attire and greet the day with a slow burn.
Good Morning Albuquerque.