It’s about to go extreme. Everything is slotting into place. Everything is on fire. Everything is fine. My major concern is that I might have to swap my wheels. Transport are fighting fires so I might end up in a transit van while some bastard zooms all around London with my beautiful X-Trail that talks to my phone and has my resident parking permit in the window. Although that seems less likely now considering all the executives have missed their plane. Flights were delayed.

But people are flying in now from all over the place and there are so many drivers and PAs and fuck knows what managers and executives and producers and camera folk and location folk. I’m quite happy to be invisible. I’m on the road. People often forget I’m not my car. Another reason why I don’t want to change it. I don’t want to be a van thankyouplease. I’m a very nice brand new Honda SUV full of Percy Pig, and I want to stay that way until Enterprise pry the thing back from me at the end of the job.

The invisibility of being a driver is the big draw for me. Whether or not I like it, I’m reasonably visible day to day. I disarm that by playing the unthreatening alien. “Goodness I’ve never seen a gun before! You must be really important!” That sort of shit. You’ve been reading this long enough to see that habit in many different contexts. But driving…?

The woman from last night has initiated a habitual banter with me that she employs globally with her drivers. It’s part flirt part power and means nothing other than passing the time. It helps us remember each other. But I’m just the driver. I like that. You see your passenger. They present what they choose of themselves. It’s always interesting. It’s why films get made on this. Baby Driver. Collateral. Driver. Even Deadpool plays with it. It’s a great view. You have a job to hide in. You see your passengers sharper than they see you if they’re strangers.

And now as I write I just got a message telling me my start time and it’s early. Bum. This job is hilarious. So many people, so many vehicles. And I’m the willing one with the sexy car. I don’t have to swap my car anymore. I drive it a long bloody way first thing in the morning. And I’m happy with that. But oh fuck and now it’s half an hour earlier than the last message.

Al Barclay. Cavalier of willing. Lord of the yes. Marvel as he overlooks his own comfort in favour of being amenable. Wonder as he throws his considerably intellect into making his own existence more complicated. Become perplexed at the fact that somehow he seems comfortable and happy because he is needed. Realise he is clearly just throwing himself at anything he can throw himself at with full force as he always fucking does. Shrug because he can choose to spend more energy on others than himself. Get on with your life.




Author: albarclay

This blog is a work of creative writing. Do not mistake it for truth. All opinions are mine and not that of my numerous employers.

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