The Life of a 4am Worker

2:45am - My body violently wakes up. I panic, wondering where I am and if I've overslept. I look at the clock and realize I have fifteen more minutes of sleep.

3:00am - My phone alarm goes off, a really annoying midi version of "Alouette." It pisses me off so much that I can't help but wake up. I curse. I lie there for about a minute. I curse again and get out of bed.

3:05am - I turn on the shower. The bathroom is freezing cold, and it's pitch black outside. The shower feels like a heavenly warm water blanket, and I almost fall asleep twice standing up. I decide I don't have time to shave. I curse.


3:15am - Out of the shower and it's FREEZING. The mirror is all fogged up, so I'm not sure if I put my makeup on correctly. Just kidding, I don't wear makeup. Just a little eyeliner. I brush my teeth.


3:22am - I get dressed. I stare at my bed and longingly wish it were 1pm, so I'd be done with work and could go back to sleep. I curse.

3:28am - I walk outside to my car. It's freezing, but I'm kind of awake now. I turn on Howard Stern, where a girl is masturbating on a vibrating saddle at 6:28am Eastern.

3:32am - The devil on my shoulder wants a cigarette, the angel on my other shoulder calls me a fucking idiot. Angel gets sucked out the window when I open it to smoke. I roll the window all the way down, and for the ninth time this morning I am freezing.


3:36am - The window is back up, and my body isn't very happy about the cigarette.


3:45am - I get off the 101 in Hollywood. This is the only time of day L.A. freeways and streets aren't choked with traffic. I look at the homeless people and am glad I'm not one of them. They look at me going to work at 3:45am and they're glad they're not one of me.

3:47am - The all night donut shop at Highland and Santa Monica is rocking. Prostitutes and drug dealers mill around, waiting to stick something in their bodies. The cops sit in their car and watch from the Del Taco parking lot across the street.

3:49am - I'm stopped at a light. There are not cars coming in any direction. The green walk hand won't change to the flashing red walk hand, not matter what I do. I put the car in reverse, then drive. I flash my high beams. I think about running the light, but end up sitting there like a law-abiding tool.

3:55am - I park my car on the street outside my building. I look for a broken meter, but they're never broken in the morning. They only seem to flash "Fail" after I've put my two dollars in. I curse.

3:56am - The beep from my access card wakes up the sleeping security guard. I offer a cheery "Good Morning," and he gives me a look that makes me happy he doesn't have a gun.

3:57am - I walk into the newsroom. In my mind I'm greeted by joyous celebration, but in reality it's more like muted acknowledgement of my presence.

4:00am - I start writing news stories. It seems there are a lot of people that have been murdered, and a lot of children have been kidnapped or molested. My mind wanders as I think about never having kids, and I realize I've fallen asleep at my keyboard.

4:23am - Other people start wandering in to work. Most of them look as if they were sleep walking and somehow woke up at a radio station. The smell of burnt coffee fills the air.

5:12am - I have a lengthy internal debate over whether or not I want to take a dump at work.


5:45am - It's time for our morning meeting of the "Liberal Media." We sit and plot about how to make the Republicans look bad and the Democrats look good. Lately, the Republicans seem to be doing a fine job all on their own.






6:00am - Another meeting, this time smaller. It's the gathering of "Jews Who Control The Liberal Media." We laugh about how we told our people not to go to work in the World Trade Center buildings on 9/11. Then we pat ourselves on the back about how clever we are in getting the United States to keep supporting Israel. We think of new ways to steal money and laugh about that time we killed Christ. We put our horns away and get back to work.

7:30am - Time for break. I go downstairs and wander around for a bit. I contemplate buying something at the coffee shop, but I'm not hungry. I wander around some more, then go back to work.

8:15am - The news cycle slows down considerably, and I hit a wall. I wonder if anyone would notice if I curled up under my desk and took a nap.


8:42am - A heated newsroom debate ensues over whether the line "It appears the first female Speaker of the House likes Bush" is appropriate for a story about the bipartisan meeting between Nancy Pelosi and the President. It's deemed inappropriate, and I have to re-write my story.

10:07am - I realize I forgot to feed the meter, and race downstairs hoping I don't have a ticket. I don't, but someone has put a coupon on my windshield offering me a big discount on "The Cleaning of Dirty Car-pets." As I put in my last quarter, the meter blinks "Fail." If only it would have done that before I put my two dollars in.

10:32am - I go back over the stories I've written that day and laugh at how clever I am. No one can match my wit when it comes to writing about attempted rape. NO ONE!

10:47am - I spend way too much time thinking about the meaning of "Dirty Car-pets." Does it mean dirty carpets, or dirty pets that ride in your car? I have no need to get either cleaned, but I consider calling the number anyway...

11:15am - I read an e-mail from a friend suggesting we do a story about how You Tube is censoring his attempt to put up videos of him in various stages of going to the bathroom. I reply, telling him no. Again.

11:19am - I check my work e-mail and learn that Mark from sales, it's his birthday, and everyone should stop by his office at 11:30. I'm so not going. Then I read the last line, which says there will be cake. I'm the first one there. Which is awkward, because I just started two weeks ago and I've never met Mark.

11:45am - My stomach hurts, having been up nine hours and eaten nothing but two pieces of super sugary cake from Ralph's. Mark and I make plans to "meet up for drinks with everyone else from the office."


12:00pm - A bird whistle blows, and it's time to go home. I slide down the neck of a brontosaurus, landing through the cloth roof of my foot powered car.