Escape Hatches

The cell rang early today. Problems always ring early or late. My assistant’s shrill voice blasts in my ear, “There’s an accident on the causeway, traffic is hung up, kids are late for school. I need an escape before I explode.” Wow! Wonder how many other frustrated carpoolers have uttered this.

Have you ever thought of the many ‘escape hatches’ we have available?

I remembered a lesson learned in the old days. I was young then, a self-proclaimed real estate tycoon. Tycoon is a superlative title for one long on conceit but short on talent and ability. Anyway, we’d purchased some land in North Georgia, the home of Deliverance and white whiskey. The surveyors had not been paid. We were tight for cash, but eventually paid the bills… later than sooner.

About mid-morning, the secretary came running back to my high-rise, glassed-in office. It’s from these pinnacles that over-inflated egos can survey the world as their oyster and contemplate grandiose plans of wealth. She blurted, “Two bib overalls just walked in. Daryl and his brother Daryl. They look like trouble.”

“What do they want? Are they lost?” I asked. She answered, “Said they’d come to get their money.” Trouble always finds a home when one’s short of cash. “I told them you weren’t here. Said they weren’t leaving ‘til they got their money. By the way, your new investor clients just fled,” she added. She quickly vanished to the ladies room.

I thought of fading the heat, but then remembered there was no back door, no escape. Except jumping from the 20th floor, I couldn’t get past these boys without strokin’ a check. The better part of wisdom is to pay the bill. I did. Since then, my offices have had multiple escape routes as a stark reminder of that day.

The Almighty has a grab bag of lessons for people like me. I remember once thinking Sunday was a good day to speed through Buena Vista, Georgia. I did. Apparently that day the police weren’t dining on drumsticks on the lawn of the local Baptist church. Flashing red lights in a rear view mirror ain’t Colonel Sanders!

The children were mortified. I was humbled, following the patrol car to jail. It was a low, stone building, gray and imposing. The children and I shuffled behind the portly sheriff into the jail to pay my $50 fine. (There’s a bill one can’t avoid without dire consequences. Washing dishes is not an option!) I had the bright idea this would be a learning experience for the children. Dumb people come up with dumb ideas.

I asked the sheriff to take the children into the jail to see what happens to criminals. He did. They walked down a long, dark corridor, cells on either side. A lone, naked light hung from the ceiling and cast an eerie shadow. Arms exploded from the bars, and voices mumbled warnings. “Y’all don’t be breaking the law, y’heah, or you gonna get locked up, and they ain’t no way outta here.” The children’s eyes bulged, and their bodies became as rigid as the steel bars that incarcerated the prisoners. There seemed to be no way to escape.

I paid the fine and loaded the children back into the car, fifty bucks poorer but hopefully richer for the experience. We were silent for a few miles. I asked, “What did you learn?” I received an answer I didn’t expect. My son, about 7 at the time, said, “Well, dad, you can get out if you have enough money. Right?” So much for instructive lessons on Sunday morning at the jail! They’d been better off at church singing “Jesus Loves Me.”

Things always get around to money. It’s a marvelous escape option. But it’s not alone. We’ve developed things like Blackberries and caller ID. Earplugs dangle from everyone’s ears, escaping the ‘now’ of life. There’s shopping, reading, alcohol, drugs and you-name-it for escape routes. Of them all, lies are the most pernicious and destructive…ultimately incarcerating us without bail in impenetrable prisons.

I think I’ve found ways out of most things…but escaping a stuck elevator still eludes me. What has you trapped?

Bud Hearn
April 14, 2011