The Rush

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“Go ahead Ginny. Tell me what happened.”

No one can tell me differently. I know what happened. I know what I saw. I’m in therapy. It was a Wednesday afternoon. I had just left the office and was making my way to the lower level for lunch. Stepped into the elevator like normal- nothing. There was nothing different about this walk. I’ve taken the same walk for the past 3 months since we’ve been back in the office! It was a typical day—a regular Wednesday.

I took my medicine that morning. I had a light lunch- oh that lunch. I can’t forget. I’ll never forget. It was so bad. I make my best effort to eat light on Wednesday because I know it's a long day for me. I have to deal with work and all the stressors that come with that, and if I eat too heavy of a lunch- oh my gosh. I’ll be no good come 2 pm and I certainly won’t last for my session with you. And you know and advised me to eat a fruit salad or just any old salad.

But today, you know, I thought I'd try something different for my light lunch. Not too out of sorts, just something to liven up my day.

I moseyed down to the cafeteria in my building and saw they were having a sort of “fair” day if you will. They had little stations serving fried pickles, corn dogs, steak and potatoes, and funnel cakes. As tempting as it all was, I stuck to my routine and got a nice salad.

“Another salad, Ginny?” I heard my co-worker say to me from the side.

I felt the attitude rise from my stomach to my face and immediately behind my eyes.

“You know I love my leafy greens,” I managed to cover up my attitude with a light-hearted joke back. I hate Cliff. And if he never spoke to me again about my desire for salad, it would be too soon!

I quickly did my breathing exercises as I stood in line. 5-second inhale and 5-second exhale. I repeated it 3 times and felt better.

So I waited in line to have it loaded with the usual veggies; carrots, cucumbers, banana peppers, and tomatoes. I noticed it was a new person behind the salad bar serving. I had been so used to Eustace already knowing my order when a new young girl was preparing my salad and reached for the black olives, I almost jumped out of my shoes at her.

“NO! No olives. Please. No Olives”.

She quickly dropped the utensil understanding my disdain for the olives and continued to the cucumbers.

First Cliff agitated me, even though he does that regularly, and then the new girl almost put those hideous olive beetles in my salad. I had to gather myself twice in a matter of minutes.

Anyway, I got my dressing in a cup on the side, paid, sat down, and began to eat.

All was going well, finally. My bites were fully dressed with ranch. Nice scrumptious, full-mouth bites until I saw it. It reared its ugly black head from beneath one of the spinach leaves.

“A fuckin’ olive-,” I said loud enough to be heard by some employees.

Wasn’t my intention to be that loud but when you hate something that much, you can’t help but voice it, right?

I grabbed my bag and didn’t even bother closing the container the salad was in. I just threw the dressing, utensils, used and unused napkins in and took it to the trash can.

I stood wiping my mouth and watching the others buy their corn dogs and funnel cakes. I remember taking in a deep breath because I was preparing to simply go back upstairs to my office until I saw a lonely stand in the back. The workers at the stand looked unamused and bored by the lack of patrons. I bit my lip knowing I should just go to my desk and finish my day but I felt a sort of pull. My feet shuffled as my eyes were focused on the stand.

Somehow I ended up in front of the stand.

“Hi, there,” I said to get his attention from his phone.

“Hello, ma’am. May I interest you in our fried Black and white cookies?”

Puzzled by the name, “Black and white cookies?”

“We just fry Oreos in pancake batter, but we can’t say their name, and black and white was the best we could do apparently.”

I watched as he grabbed the trademarked blue container with the large OREO lettering and held it up for me to see.

“Seven dollars for 6 cookies”

I stood picking at my finger. I turned around to look behind me in case I was holding up the line. There was no one there to rush me and my decisions.

“It’ll only take like 3 minutes to cook. I’m already battering them up.”

It’s like he was pressuring me to get them as I continued to go back and forth with myself about getting these little delectable sweet treats. I could hear you now, “Ginny, you have a heightened sensitivity to caffeine, sugar, and spicy foods. While you still should enjoy them, just do it sparingly.”

I picked at my finger even more and glanced behind me once more.

“They’re like, literally done,” the guy said as he held the small paper container in one hand and the frying basket in the other, swishing the little morsels in the oil. His face was bored but his eyes never left me. I watched as he dumped the doughy pillows into the tray, heat rising and almost ninja-like, and sprinkled the powdered sugar atop.

“You know, it okay-”

He reached the tender, battered chunks of sugar out in front of me, “Seven dollars.”

I swallowed the saliva that had been building from the sweet sugary smell and reached in my purse for the lonely 10-dollar bill that hung out in the side pocket. I pulled it out and exchanged it for the precious basket of Oreo dumplings.

“Keep the change. You’re a great salesperson.”

“Thanks, ma’am. Try not to eat them too fast. Might be best to share them. They’re pretty intense.”

I heard him, but I wasn’t listening. I was well on my way down the hallway one bite in.

Intense was hardly the word to be used. These fried cookies were extraordinary. With two bites one was taken down. I gushed. A wave of bliss overcame my body. I had to stop walking. I went to the side of the large hallway and parked myself at the vent that doubled as a seating place for many people. I set my purse down and immediately went for the second. My thumb and forefinger were slowly becoming sugar-coated but that was nothing I was worried about. I downed the second and was unstoppable as I ventured to the third. I began to feel my heart race, but I just knew that was from the excitement my tastebuds were experiencing. This was a roller coaster for my mouth, body, and very quickly my brain. I hadn’t even realized the 4th one disappeared. I must have closed my eyes lost in the sugar abyss of it all. As I took shallow breaths finishing the 5th, I felt my eyes glaze over. There was a bit of drool escaping from the side of my mouth but I had reached a state of complete euphoria that nothing mattered. This job didn’t matter. My boss. His boss. My work. Cliff. What was advised or the session I needed to attend later. All those salads. Everything just drifted away as I lifted the 6th and final fried cookie to my mouth.

I heard nothing as I chewed. I saw nothing because my eyes closed envisioning the breakdown of the cookie and the fried batter tussling with my tongue and teeth. I extended my chewing in hopes to make the chewing and taste last longer but alas, it came to an end. I slowly opened my eyes. 

“Damn, lady you ate them all?”

It's like I could hear someone speaking to me, but it was also as if I had little doughy Oreo earmuffs on my ears, muffling all around me.

I looked up to see the young guy who was at the stand waving his hand in front of me. I think after a while he shrugged his shoulders and walked away. I was chewing my way through the last of the first bite when I was on the decline of the 6th cookie ride. 

I finally placed the last crescent-bitten-shaped cookie in my mouth and let the previous ascension begin. I floated up to the top and with every chew I went around in circles, looping and turning until I declined and came back to base.

My eyelids held weight as I began to try and focus. My chest was heavy and my fingers looked like I dipped them in snow.

I took a deep breath in, grabbed my purse, and walked to the nearest trash can to discard the evidence. As I walked to the elevator I quickly licked my thumb and pointer finger to clear the powdered residue. Upon my last lick, as I stepped into the rising deathtrap, I heard him.

“Ginny, you’re a wild girl tackling those black and white cookies! Heard they’re a wild ride.”

I quickly turned around in the elevator to prevent Cliff from seeing this “wild” eye-roll I had for him.

It was just my luck to step into this void with the likes of him. It's not like we’ve ever had any issues but his need to joke with me at every turn drives me crazy. I promise it's okay to just walk by and give nothing. Just once.

“So what's new with you?” The lady that stood next to Cliff asked him. 

Great. An open invitation for him to speak.

“Well, I just started a new book. Warfare in the Seventeenth Century. It's about a”

I felt myself throw up in my mouth. What a boring topic. Not only boring but as I looked up at the number for the elevator, I noticed the numbers were changing, but they were not changing to anything. They were just flickering.

“Yeah, it's about the evolutions of the forced arms that resulted in the wars growing longer, the armies getting bigger, and military formations becoming much more disciplined-”

My eyelids were getting heavier as the numbers began to melt on the wall. I tilted my head still looking because is anyone else noticing this? Hearing him talk about war was quickly becoming the bane of my existence, but if I was in a glitchy elevator, they needed to be as concerned as I was!

“It's a richly detailed story-”

“Are you all noticing that we’re moving, but not moving? The elevator isn’t… elevating?”

Cliff stopped talking and they were silent behind me as I shakily pointed up at the numbers. I turned around to see if they saw what I saw only to see we were no longer in an elevator but what looked like a cabin. There were wooden planks everywhere- the walls, the floor, and the ceiling. There was a brick fireplace in the corner to the left where an actual fire was ablaze. I continued to scan to my right to finally see who I assumed to be Cliff in one of those white curly wings that people used to wear back in the 1700s. It was then I realized Cliff had transported us into what he was talking about!

The lady next to him wore this big bouffant dress. Her waist was cinched so tight her cheeks looked flush. I placed my hand on my chest because I was certain my heart was about to expel from my body. I quickly turned around to the elevator doors where the numbers were completely melted and dripping down the door and began to press the red emergency button. I tapped it once and peered over my shoulder at the two. They just stared at me. I tapped it again and then heard the sounds of shots in the background like there was a war outside of that foggy window behind me.

“Oh hell no,” I said as I sped up my button pushing, “I want no parts of the 1700s!”

“Ginny,” I heard Cliff, call out, “Why are you-”

By this time, I felt like I was suffocating. I’m certain air was being sucked out of the room. I was hot from the fireplace and my eyes were so hazy, I could hardly see the woman nearing me but I refused to be taken.

“You will not usher me away like chattel to some man who is off fighting a war and will probably come back with a missing leg! It is not the 1700s! I will have my liberty! I hate this job and I hate that women fought for this much equality, but i will not-i will not be the property of some ma-”

Everything went dark. The next thing I saw was Cliff and his white wig over me. It was a strong chance I screamed myself back into unconsciousness. Because the next time I woke up, I saw you, and I'm here wrapped up in this white jacket.

I cannot express enough that that man Cliff is some sort of -of sarcastic - I don’t know. I don’t want to say wizard or magician, but he's doing some freaky shit in that office. There's no way someone is that damn chipper at work all the time. Something is wrong with him and he preys on me! He waited until he got me in the elevator to pull the ultimate plan on me so I'll quit or better yet make me go crazy so they’ll have to fire me!”

“Ginny, as your therapist, you know I won’t lie, and I hold nothing back. From what I already know about you, what I'm hearing about your situation from you, and from the accounts of others who witnessed you before the elevator, you will not be fired. You didn’t quit, and Cliff is not any of those things and is not plotting against you. He said he trying to make you comfortable since you always look gloomy,” my therapist said.

“Oh, so you're on his side?” I retorted because that’s certainly what it sounded like.

I watched her shift in her fat leather chair as I continued to hug myself underneath this itchy white jacket.

“Ginny, no. What did we talk about? What did you have for lunch?”

I rolled my eyes and released a small sigh, “I just told you! Cause I'll never forget. I had that salad-”

“No, remember, you threw it away. What did you have?”

I gasped at the ethereal experience that took me to Neverland and back. I completely forgotten about that demon like salad that i didn’t even get to enjoy. Those corrupted cookies in that bountiful basket of bliss took me to the 1700s and back.

“Ginny, honestly, you just had a major sugar rush.”