Detour

As Michael reversed out of his driveway and began the familiar drive towards work his stomach rumbled. He had been too nervous to eat this morning, his mind swimming with the presentation he would have to give later today. He regretted it now as his stomach's emptiness made itself known, but it was too late to go back. The boss wouldn’t be happy if he was late. This presentation, his boss had insisted, was of the utmost importance.

Michael wound his way through the streets, observing the same things he observed every day. The local shopkeeper was setting out the flower stand. The lady on the corner was stretching before her run. The old man was peeing on the lemon tree in his front garden.

As he approached his usual motorway on-ramp, Michael let out a groan.

ROAD CLOSED. DETOUR

“Of course” he muttered, as he turned the car in the direction of the arrows and began to follow them in a circuitous route through the neighbouring streets. He came to a stop outside the local school, tapping his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel as the school bus in front of him stopped to let off children. The sounds of the car radio cut out, replaced with ringing as his phone connected to the speakers. It was his boss.

“Michael? How far away are you? I want to run through the presentation again before everyone gets here.”

“I just got held up by a road detour, I’m on my way.”

“You know how important this is.”

“I know, I’m coming.”

The radio resumed, and the bus in front of him indicated, beginning what Michael estimated would be a 21-point turn. He beeped his horn in impatience, and received an obscene gesture from the bus driver in return. Michael reversed into the closest driveway and began a turn of his own, heading back in the opposite direction and down a side street, in blatant disregard of the detour arrows. He really couldn’t be late today.

The giant beach ball came out of nowhere. It bounced off Michael’s windscreen in a blur of colour and jubilation, completely at odds with Michael’s state of mind as he careered wildly across the road, over the curb, and through a hedge.

“Shit!” Michael exclaimed as he shot across the corner of the lawn and out onto another road, taking out an ornamental frog in the process.

“Sorry!” he yelled behind him in the general direction of the frog, as he wrestled back control of his car and tried to orient himself. A stray piece of foliage blocked his view, and he wound down his car window to dislodge it as his eyes searched frantically for a street sign. So focused was he on his search that he didn’t immediately register he had entered a lane of traffic cones. He slowed, as the cones led him down the road, around the corner and into a nearby carpark. Michael pulled over confused.

“Good morning, what can I get for you today?”

“Huh?” Michael searched for the voice.

“Your order, sir?”

Michael stared at the drive-thru menu before him and began to apologise and reverse, when another car entered the lane behind him. His stomach grumbled.

“Uhhh…. a sausage and egg sandwich and a coffee?”

“Drive to the next window please.”

As Michael paid for his breakfast, still not quite understanding what had happened, his phone began to ring again.

“Michael? I thought you were on the way. WHERE are you?”

“I’m not actually sure, I got thrown off course a bit.”

“Are you kidding me? I told you how important this presentation was. Get here NOW!”

The phone disconnected aggressively, and Michael pulled out of the drive-thru, peering around desperately for a familiar landmark. It had begun to rain, causing some more plant matter to dislodge and stream down his windscreen in dirty trails. He chose his direction, rounded a bend and slammed on his breaks.

Michael gaped. The sheep bleated. The farmer banged his fist on the hood of Michael’s car and shouted, “Hey asshole, watch where you’re going!”

Michael stared incredulously as the farmer shook his head, and slowly resumed steering the hundreds of sheep across the road and down a side alley. He took a sip of his coffee as his brain struggled to process what he was looking at, and tried to remember just how far away the nearest piece of farmland was. He glanced at the clock nervously. Outside the rain grew heavier.

As the last of the sheep disappeared down the alley Michael resumed his journey, slower now and more cautious, until he finally reached an intersection he recognised. He stopped at the red light, indicating left and waiting to turn on to the road that would take him back to work.

He had to admit, the flash flood was genuinely surprising. As he watched the torrent of water stream down the road in front of him and begin to pool around his car, Michael’s phone began to ring. He started to giggle, as he leaned over to silence the phone. It grew to a cackle, as the beach ball drifted past him, riding the water like it was being tossed through a crowd at a festival. He absolutely howled, as two stray sheep waded through the rising waters towards him and began to eat the last bits of vegetation off his car.

The torrent of water seemed to dissipate as fast as it arrived, and Michael began to pick a slow winding path through the debris. The clouds started to clear as Michael chose a new route. He was fairly certain there was a good spot up ahead to eat his sandwich.