I am waiting for the installation of new tires at Mavis. It’s been two long hours now. I’ve watched two episodes of ‘Inside Edition’. I am now officially less intelligent than I was upon entering this place.
I have talked to other trapped customers as we struggle together in this weird bubble. I have checked all of my accounts. I have watched the ribbons of traffic go by; stream after stream with the colors ebbing and flowing, intermixed with the rapidly approaching evening and the off again, on again rain. Having checked out the weather report for the next ten days, I now feel prepared. I continue to stare out the window.
The head of the maintenance shop told me that my tires are en route from Greece; the local suburb, not the foreign country, although at this point I am beginning to wonder.
I look back at the interior of the waiting room with the faded lights, the worn seating and the linoleum floor. I may soon begin redecorating. There is not enough flow. We are as removed from ‘Feng shui’ as we could possibly be. There is no ‘here’ here. Trapped.
690 Saint Paul 