For municipal employee Mitch, this Monday morning was nothing but the usual grind from before dawn until mid-afternoon. It was simply the start of another work week. His route as a garbage truck driver for the City of San Francisco was typically an uneventful one, and from his perspective it stayed that way.
How could he know the part his actions would play in the fate of a scientist who had sought a bizarre transformation for some fleeting thrills?
As he drove his truck from house to house down the narrow streets lined with garbage bins he was happy at the very least that he didn’t need to get out of the truck, with the rare exception to when the truck encountered some issue.
So it was that when he drove up to another nondescript garbage bin, he hit the lever and the mechanical arm deployed, aligning with the garbage bin. The metal clamp locked down on either side of the bin, lifted it skyward and dumped its contents into the back of his truck.
The side loading arm lowered the garbage bin back down to the sidewalk, and just like any other routine garbage stop it was over. On to the next house, the one after that, and the remainder down the block.
Finished with this street, Mitch turned the truck down another street. The process repeated, adding more to the rubbish collecting in the back of the truck.
The new street was more heavily populated by other vehicles, pedestrians, and worst of all tourists.
His final part of his route brought him to the infamous Castro street. Here he had to be a bit more careful, as the queer community was already out in packs enjoying the summer heat, and each other.
It was the drunk ones he had to watch out for. He always had to slow to a snail's pace on this stretch.
That slower pace was the smile of good fortune that allowed one seemingly common pest the time to extricate itself from an avalanche of garbage and rise with a degree of triumph back into the air. But Brad's freedom introduced him to a world of chaos.
Not only was this part of the city much more populated by people, but also insects and small life of all varieties. Dogs being walked by their owners, pigeons that bounced around the sidewalks or burst into panicked flight, spiders that clung in webs higher amongst the buildings closer to many of the bars and restaurants, and pests of all manner, from ants to rats, scurried around the human debris in the neighborhood.
Now Brad found himself awash in this sea of activity after he escaped the truck as it slowed out of caution for pedestrians.
As fate would have it, there was one friendly face making its way through the crowd across the street. Karam, a local neighborhood business owner, strode shirtless down the street like so many other Castro goers on this sunny spring afternoon.
He turned past the local pharmacy and up towards his favorite bar, where he’d be meeting a few friends for drinks and mischief.
The tiny scientist-turned bug hovered in place near the colossal Castro street sign. A few hours earlier, he had cringed on a mound of garbage inside a colossal plastic bin as he heard the beeps of the approaching vehicle grow louder. Like any suburban dweller, he knew what those beeps meant. He had listened with increasing unease to the hiss of brakes and grinding mechanical noises as the truck collected Russ’s garbage.
The noises signaled impending doom!
He had buzzed in panic when he felt the truck’s mechanical clamps fasten around the bin. A violent lurching motion followed as the contraption lifted the bin off the pavement.
An avalanche of garbage spilled into the back of the truck. The process repeated itself, over and over, to the horror of a tiny fly that struggled for the next few hours to prevent getting buried beneath the crushing accumulation.
Fortunately, Brad’s refueling effort had paid dividends, and his wings began to strengthen. He made a tentative flight, but his timing couldn’t have been worse. Another collection stop resulted in more heavy bags and loose garbage falling into the back of the enormous truck. The tiny fly almost dodged the incoming garbage, but a heavy, black banana peel slammed into him and pulled him down onto the mountain of other rubbish.
He needed time to recover, and in the that interval, the truck picked up speed. Wind currents whipped like hurricanes over the garbage collected in the back of the truck.
Just as Brad had managed to get airborne with the intent of escaping the truck while still in his neighborhood and fly back home, the powerful breezes buffeted his tiny body against the hard metal wall of the truck interior.
The punishing impact knocked him out of his flight, but he landed softly in a plastic tub of some sort of half-eaten dip. He smelled onions on top of all the rotten smells of decay.
The truck made more stops, while all the time one puny fly tried to extricate itself from the sticky dip. Only when the truck slowed to a snail’s pace did the disruption of the wind velocity allow Brad to vibrate his wings. He needed to escape before the truck resumed garbage pickups. He wasn’t sure how far the truck had traveled, but if he remained inside the truck, he was sure to get crushed sooner or later beneath a mound of garbage.
He soared out of the back of the truck and hovered for a moment to get his bearings. In shock, which quickly turned to dismay, he flew toward an enormous street sign.
“The Castro!” Brad recognized the sign’s enormous lettering.
This has to be one of the busiest locations in the entire city and was also far from home, especially for something as small and insignificant as his current self.
An explosion of feathers rocked his tiny winged form as dragon-sized pigeons displaced air around the hovering insect as they exploded into flight to avoid oncoming pedestrians.
Optimism sank as pessimism overwhelmed the little bug-guy.
Until…
He couldn’t believe his compound eyes!
It was a sign! How else could Brad interpret the sight of an enormous, shirtless Karam as the large, masculine jeweler traveled the sidewalk across the street.
“Karam!” Brad zipped into impulsive action and nearly got splattered on the windshield of a passing automobile.
More cautious after the near miss, he flew higher, crossed the street, and pursued the imposing figure of Karam as the man approached one of his favorite bars. Brad knew it was one of Karam’s favorites because they’d had drinks there together less than two weeks ago.
Karam had sold Brad the wedding rings for his marriage to Mark. Ever since they had crossed paths, Karam had become woven into Brad's life. It had to be a good sign he told himself as he used his wings to follow the huge man.
But, despite how Brad taxed his tiny wings as fast as he could, Karam stepped inside the mammoth building, stepping through a door that closed behind him.
“No! Come back!” Brad buzzed impotently. He had been so certain!
Two other shirtless men, lookers but not in Karam’s league, approached the door to the bar and Brad saw his chance.
A moment later, he zipped inside the bar, following in the wake of the two titans, and began to buzz and fly through the establishment in his quest for Karam.
His little brain let his hopes rise. It had to be a sign. Karam, once again, would come to his rescue. He felt his confidence creep upward again.
…if he could find a way to communicate his identity to the darkly handsome man.
That was the challenge. Well, that and the fact that Karam had seemingly vanished once he entered the crowded establishment.