The 9-meter rule
“Fuck this shit”, Paul screamed in silence. The protocol he faces daily both in and out of his zone of comfort — often bends him in the wrong way. From time to time, the societal and legislative orders of the day weighs heavily on his shoulders and makes him exhausted. Although in some extent, he believes it to be the case for most people, the day-to-day soldiers with similar lifestyle and ambitions as his. But the fact remains true. When the rage hits one to the core, and the blood rushes to the head, it feels to him, like the bottom-end of a rocket: blasting off.
Speaking of the smoking bums, Paul himself smokes cigarettes. And profusely he does. Some would say, some being most of the people around him, he is like a chimney, shortened down to a human-height in a corner. At various parts of the day, he confines himself to a corner of some establishment inevitably and smokes. The act of it, however, is not permitted at work or his apartment. Had he ever liked the fact? The ban? Ever got fond of such practice? Good God No. But he tried getting used to it. So far, that had been a slow process.
Then, it happens. The legal enactment. Paul and his city, got slapped with the new rule: causing dread and devastation for all the smoking guns. The misty bunch with wet coughs were all got awestruck and muted momentarily. The proverbial 9-metre rule had lashed on to them with a venomous tip. It was sudden, hardly made sense, miserable and caused a silent uproar of disgust amongst all.
The day of the incident wasn’t much different than any other. Paul was somewhat in a similar state of mind as usual. He was seen smoking at his favourite corner of the office building where all on a sudden, he got interrupted and intervened between the sweet dragging of the fumes.
“You are smoking inside the legal distance Sir and therefore, in breach of the law. I’m going to have to ask for your details” — said the building security in an orderly fashion.
“So it seems but, there is no snowball chance in hell You are in a position to enforce such law and slap me with a threat & fine” — Paul returned a rhetoric, with eyes fiercely wide open, he became quite snappy at this point.
“I sure am Sir, within a 9-metre radius of this property, I can enforce a smoking ban between the business hours, Monday to Friday” — with a shiny mocking set of eyes says the security man who had ‘Lenny’ written across his nametag.
“Fuck that shit and all” — Paul finds himself storming out and away from the scene, red-faced and grunting. Rage overcast his senses and he sped through a set of traffic lights, crossed the street and took a turn sharply without looking back - trying best not to let someone take him for a runaway crook. Not so sure he succeeded in that endeavour though. Already gasping, Paul had no intention to stop soon. He went four blocks east and then two south until his head had a pause and his feet followed. He decided to sit down until his heart steadied back to beat normally. He looked upwards at the skies, tapped lightly to his chest: hiding the gesture from the passers-by. He couldn’t remember any other mechanism to mute the buzz that he was feeling. The angry tinnitus inside his head was like an annoying little bedside alarm, loud and semi-rhythmic. He continued breathing with his mouth open, an agape effort to force himself to solitude with the hope to surface and float towards a much-desired state of Calm. It took almost half an hour until he was finally convinced of the outcome.
Coming back to office, Paul doesn’t have any surprising encounters. It seemed the rest of the day laid in front of him would be quite trouble-free. An uphill trajectory. He sits down and thinks of using it as an opportunity to benefit him. He dials Esmeralda Pike, his trusted and professionally beloved. He needs a therapeutic session now; more than anything. He must come up with the enforcement to mend the squiggle, the mishap for good, or at least for a while.
Paul knows he can do it, sure of it because he knows himself better than the most. He slowly starts to visualize a clearer picture. True; it was a hot day followed by some unpleasant restraints-but surely, no excuse for any ill-behaviour. True he needs to rebuild a relationship with someone he sees every day for splits, but that can be done, he believes in it. His 25 years of working and 46 of passing life may not have mastered him to everything, but Paul had some practice in seeking out the agility to make things right when suddenly wrong.
Paul hangs up the phone and chuckles to himself. He’ll see her in 20 minutes.
