The Next Day

Waking up the next morning after what seemed to be a night of forever wakefulness, the driver rubbed the sleep from his eyes, got up, and started to dress. The pressure on his bladder told him that Mother Nature was screaming at him to relieve himself, so after slipping his shoes on, he exited the truck, walking briskly to the entrance. Entering, he turned towards the bathroom, and located the nearest stall. Going inside, he sat down, expecting more than just a river flow to begin soon. Starting the urine flow, he was greeted by the familiar pressure from the backside, as waste started exiting from his body. Feeling a slight tingle from twice the relief, he gave a small shudder, and finished his business. Cleaning himself, he stood up, and pulled up his pants, allowing the toilet to automatically flush from the sensor. Turning around, he saw a clear bowl, so he opened the stall door, where another driver was patiently waiting. Passing him up, they exchanged slight nods, as he went to the sink to wash his hands.

Turning on the warm water, he deposited some foam soap from the dispenser. Working it into a lather, he scrubbed his hands, then ran the water over them to remove the soap. Turning the water off, he went over to the air dryer, and placed his hands underneath. Feeling the rush of warm air, he dried his hands, and left the restroom. Going to the coffee station, he grabbed a large cup, and went to the dispenser, making his selection. The machine whirred, then start to dispense his coffee into the cup, a hot stream exiting from the machine. Once it finished, the whirring noise stopped, causing the last few drops to spit out, trying to make a mess on the counter. He retrieved the cup, and after putting a lid on it, he went to the counter.

The lady up front was nice, and had been there for more than a few years. He had met her before on several occasions, so when she saw him, she smiled. As he put his coffee down on the counter, he went to reach for his wallet to pay for it. She shook her head, saying, "Nope. You get it free today."

Surprised, he smiled back, and said, "Thank you, dear. Have a good morning." With that, he picked up his coffee, and made his way back t o his truck. Climbing up, he set the coffee in the cup holder, and hoisted himself the rest of the way into the truck. After closing the door, he began the process of folding back his curtains, and making sure his truck was in good order. A change of log entry, he turned on all of the lights, and after activating the 4 way flashers, he exited the truck, a rubber mallet in his hand. Locking the door and grabbing the spare key, he closed it, hearing it click shut. Walking around the truck, he checked his lights, tires, mudflaps, even the reflector tape. Thumping each tire on his drive and trailer axles, he greeted with the hollow thump of each one, signifying that the tire had enough air in it. Checking mudflaps, making sure there were no tears or chunks missing, he then turned to the reflector tape. Once complete, he returned to the front of the truck, where a quick inspection of his clearance and headlights told him everything was in working order. With a sigh of relief, he returned to the driver door, where he unlocked it, replaced his rubber mallet next to he seat, then climbed in. Closing the door, he buckled his seat belt, released his brakes, and started moving forward.

Leaving the truck stop without incident, he turned back north on I-55, and merged onto the freeway easily. The familiar rumble of the motor seemed to ease his mood slightly, as he continued north for almost an hour. Coming up on the I-55/I-57 split, he was faced with a choice. Taking I-55 would lead him straight into Chicago, but the location he was delivering to was on the south side. If he took I-57, it would be slightly longer, but he would be closer to his destination on I-80. Veering right, he took the exit for I-57, and continued north.

Missouri turned into Illinois, as he crossed over the river. The town of Metropolis was on the other side of the border, its Superman statue being the famous attraction of the town. He smiled at the thought, continuing further north, passing the rest area there on to the weigh station. The "Closed" sign set him a little more at ease, and passing it up, he noticed construction cones at the entrance, followed by heavy equipment in the station itself. Must be replacing the scales, he thought, as he motored past.

The next few hours saw the driver passing first I-24, which headed east into Kentucky, then I-64, which headed east into Indiana, and west back into St. Louis. His thoughts going back to Officer Kendall, another prayer was offered up as he continued north. About an hour later, he came into the town of Effingham, Illinois, where he decided to take a break for lunch. Going to the second exit, he pulled into one of the truck stops, and backed into a spot.

Instead of going into the truck stop itself, he chose to walk behind it to one of the fast food establishments. Seeing a place that served Asian food, he decided to walk in there. Going inside, he was greeted by many sweet and sour smells, as a line of people waited their turn to order. This happened to be one of his favorite places to stop and eat, as the food was always delicious, and while the price might be a little high, it was worth it to him to have such good flavor. His turn coming up, he recognized the young man behind the counter.

Placing his order, the young man made sure he had good portion sizes, so as to fill him up. Most of the time, others would try to make the portions smaller, and there were a couple times where he had to make a complaint about it to the manager to get the problem fixed. Today, however, was smooth as silk as the young man filled the tray with his selections, sending the to-go tray to the cashier. He always made sure that he rounded up his meal here, as they offered a program to help kids with the extra change. Paying his bill, he retrieved his food, and walked back to first the truck stop, then his truck.

Climbing in, he put his food on the dash, as his cell phone rang. Taking the phone out of his pocket, he grimaced as the number to his dispatcher showed up. Putting on his headset, he activated it, then said, "Hello?"

"Hey man, where are you at?" his dispatcher replied.

"Effingham, why?" he asked.

"The customer's asking where their load is. You should have been there about 2 hours ago. What's the delay?" the dispatcher quipped.

"You should have gotten a call from a detective in Missouri. They didn't call you?" he asked.

"Nope. Why would a detective be calling me about you? What kind of trouble did you get into?" his dispatcher raised his voice.

Spending the next 10 minutes explaining the situation, his dispatcher scoffed. "You expect me to believe that half-crocked story?" he retorted.

"Believe it or not, it's up to you. If you want proof, I have his number," he shot back. "Give him a call if you like, he'll explain everything." With that, he rattled off the number to the dispatcher.

Taking the number down, the dispatcher exclaimed, "You better not be lying about this. If you are, I can guarantee that we will make sure that you get routed home, and you'll clean out your truck."

"In case you forgot, moron, this is my truck," the driver retorted. "As to any routing home, let me see you try it. I'll have you out on your ass so fast, you'd swear you'd been hijacked by an airliner."

"Not likely," the dispatcher shot back. "I have family in this company. I'll keep my job no matter what happens."

"Not after I play the recording of this phone call," the driver quipped. "Once they hear this, I'm pretty sure someone's gonna have your hide."

"I didn't give you permission to record this call!" the dispatcher shouted. "You need to delete this recording right now!"

"Nope," the driver replied. "I don't need your consent. This country now operates under a one party consent law. It's been in place since the Patriot Act was enabled. I'm not even required to tell you the call is recorded anymore. And since you seem convinced that you're going to come out of this unscathed, I think I'll start with the head of the Safety Department. Let's see how this turns out. Have a nice day."

With a push of the button, the driver disconnected the call. Turning back to his phone, he dialed the direct number to the Safety Department. A female voice answered, "Safety Department, this is Jean."

"Hey Jean," he replied. "This is the driver of Truck 191. Can I get put in touch with Alex, please?"

"Sure," she beamed. "Let me transfer you."

Putting him on hold, the familiar house music came over the line, filling his headset with elevator music. After a few seconds, the head of Safety came on. "Safety, this is Alex, how can I help you?"

"Hey Alex, this is the driver of Truck 191. I hate to bother you, but I seem to have a situation that requires your attention," he replied.

"Sure thing, bud, what's up?" he asked.

"Well," he returned, "It seems my dispatcher thinks I'm making up a story about why I'm late for this load." Spending the next few minutes repeating the story to Alex, he added, "And when I gave him the number to the detective assigned to the case, he not only didn't believe me, he basically threatened me. You know that all of my phone calls get recorded, so if you want a copy of this one, I'll email it you and you can hear everything for yourself. He basically told me that he would try to get away with it too, because he has family working there."

"Oh, really?" Alex asked. "Hmm, seems I need to hear this recording. Can you email it to me?"

"Absolutely," the driver replied. "I'm doing my 30 minute break now, so I'll shoot it over to you."

"Thanks," Alex said. "Also, attach that detective's name and number to the email. I'm sure you're being honest with me, but I still need to verify it."

"Not a problem, and thanks Alex. I knew I could come to you and you would be fair about it," he said.

"Absolutely. In the meantime, I'll have customer service reach out to the consignee and get that appointment rescheduled. When can you get it there legally?" Alex asked.

"Definitely tomorrow morning," the driver replied.

"Good, I'll get it done," Alex said. "Get as close as you can, then shut down until tomorrow morning."

"Yes, sir," the driver replied.

"In the meantime, I'll reach back out to you later once I've taken care of everything. Don't worry about your dispatcher, I can handle this," Alex reassured.

"Thank you," the driver said. "Now, let me get that recording over to you. Have a great day."

"Yup, you too. Bye." Alex finished.

The phone clicked silent, and the driver hung up his headset. Finding the recording, he sent it to Alex's email, along with the detective's name and number. With that done, he returned to his food. Opening the box, he realized that it had become cold, and he sighed heavily. Grabbing a few small bites, he put the rest in his refrigerator, then buckled his set belt. The brakes released, he put the truck in gear, then got back on the highway.

Motoring up the highway, he reached the outskirts of Chicago a couple of hours later. Turning on to I-80, he traveled west for a few miles, then got to the town of Morris. Turning off the highway, he went to one of the local truck stops, backed into a spot, and did his post trip inspection. Another check over of his truck showed no issues, so he logged his report into the computer before placing himself off duty. Looking over his email, Alex had replied on the trip up, stating that he had in fact been in contact with the detective in Missouri, who had corroborated his story. Apologizing for the dispatcher's behavior, Alex assured him the matter would be taken care of. With a sigh of relief, the driver archived the mail, then closed the app. Finishing his dinner (after reheating it in his microwave), he then took another shower, then came back to the truck. Seeing a note on his computer with the new appointment time set for the next morning, he smiled inwardly, and laid down for the night.