" title="Juliane Huang"> Juliane Huang

Blogging About Having A Crappy Day

“Do you have a spare?”

My tire exploded 20 minutes ago and already a Caltrans worker is here to help get me off of this goddamn bridge.

I’m impressed.

My tire is in pieces. I stare at its frayed rubber and thread edges and I just don’t fucking care anymore. Standing on the bridge’s narrow shoulder, I look over the railing to the swirling green waves below. I have to step up on the ledge to really get a good look. The wind thrashes against my face and I feel so light that even gravity can’t catch me, the mania of possibility itching behind my ears.

I’m ready to float away- my car, my problems, my responsibilities providing more strangeness than anchor, and the whole not being more than the sum of its parts.

“Where were you headed?” Caltrans interrupts. He’s young and in a good mood. His brown Volcom sweater underneath the neon safety vest is something I find I really like about him. I smile sheepishly.

A half hour later, I’m in the tire shop drinking their coffee and eating their leftover pizza.

“Do you guys still have a box of the Samoas?” I ask the good-looking kid filling out my invoice. He smiles and I smile and he sends me home with a free box of cookies.

What is life if not a series of events.