Ante Meridian I never thought my gears could turn so long. They churned through what felt like a surreal journey. We were refugees, fleeing from encroaching sanity. Reduced to primary power, we took our nervous seats, made nervous conversation. We could have been in a hospital, awaiting news on dire straits. We could have been in some kind of masochistic competition, putting our bodies through their paces. No, we were victims of delay and error. 12:00 p.m., 1:00 a.m., 2:00 a.m. Our mental faculties began to close up shop. But we promised to pay overtime, so they chose to stay. At last our “patient” arrives. A 24 hour operation has taken its toll. His jet lagged, much like his mind. We drag ourselves out of the exhausted stupor, looking forward to resting well into the post meridian.
