The Global Warming Party

The next morning, Proctor awoke to cloudy skies and a forecast for rain. “Great, that’s just goddamn great,” he said. He put on his sandals and customary Hawaiian shirt before hopping on his bicycle. The office (where the rally was being held) was several blocks away. Proctor brooded on how the weather would affect the rally, Hobart, and more importantly than all the rest: his job. The first few drops had already struck his head when he pulled into the parking lot and beheld a sad sight. Hobart, out alone, was struggling to piece together the flimsy stage that had been donated years ago. Proctor chained up his bike and joined him. “Damn…*huff*…volunteers are late. That band that wanted to pay is stuck in…*grk*…traffic. Frieda went home to get her acoustic guitar,” Hobart said. For a moment, Proctor wanted to scream at the man, the sky, anyone who could be blamed for the disaster he had foreseen coming last night. They snapped the final pole together, only to have the one Hobart had first connected fall out. “Are you sure they weren’t just throwing this thing away?” Proctor mumbled. After a great deal more shoving, the stage finally came together. “Where’s the P.A.?” Proctor asked. “With the volunteers,” Hobart answered. The two sat down on the stage to take a breather. “When was this thing supposed to start?” Proctor asked. “About ten minutes ago,” Hobart replied. The silence resumed as both men began to brood. Proctor worried about his job security with an environmental group that couldn’t even host a free concert. Hobart worried about the miracle it would take to save this situation. Frieda broke the silence when she finally pulled up, guitar in hand. Hobart perked up as she came near, one of the few things that ever seemed to rouse him from his quiet gloom. “Hey Frieda! Thanks for being the opening act. Hopefully, everyone will arrive here soon,” Hobart said. “Sure, Doc. Anytime. I just borrowed Kyle’s guitar,” Frieda answered sweetly. Hobart’s smile cracked a little at the mention of Frieda boyfriend, but his head still bobbed in response. She glanced at the sky and empty parking lot before joining her fellow co-workers on the stage. “So, how exactly did you advertise this thing?” Proctor asked. “The Volunteers,” Hobart answered. Frieda’s laughter at this finally brought a smile to the other two’s faces.