As I Was Saying
Morning Guy 
By Alan Williamson
Saturday, 6:30 a.m., and I look over at the alarm clock thinking “Why do I need you when I have this built-in alarm clock in my head?” The bedside appliance, somehow able to read minds and grasp the concept of a rhetorical question, doesn’t answer. But there’s an unspoken understanding that I’ve put it on notice.
The alarm clock – and anyone else who knows me well – is familiar with my pre-set pattern of waking up every morning around 6:30 regardless of what time I’ve gotten to bed the night before.
In bed by 10:30? Up at 6:30.
In bed by midnight? Up at 6:30.
Out partying till 2? (Okay, you’ve got me confused with someone else, but still, hypothetically speaking, up at 6:30.)
The thing about being “morning guy” is that you have to go about your business quietly so you don’t disturb others who, like my wife Sherry, have made an ill-considered lifestyle choice to forfeit the pleasures of getting up at 6:30. This, as my fellow dawn patrollers will attest, isn’t nearly as easy to pull off as it sounds.
The first obstacle comes when you realize you forgot to put some clothes out the night before. This leaves you two choices, both extremely
risky.
1) You can proceed with your morning clad only in the “Marmaduke: The Movie” t-shirt you went to bed in the night before, or . . .
2) You can try and gingerly open a dresser drawer to extract a pair of shorts and a polo shirt.
While number 2 may sound like the better option, I speak from painful, morning guy experience when I tell you that no matter how delicately you slide open the drawer, there will come a point where, against all logic and fairness, it will make a silence-shattering sound that I can best describe like this:
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEERRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAA . . .
If you did have the foresight to lay clothes out the night before, the next challenge is tiptoeing to the bedroom door and softly closing it behind you to create an impenetrable sound barrier between your morning activities and the fragile slumber of the still-sleeping. Good luck with that.
While my tiptoeing technique is whisper-quiet, my aging runner’s knees crackle with every lumbering step, creating the audio equivalent of someone popping a sheet of bubble wrap or setting off some cheap fireworks to entertain themselves on the long 10-foot journey from the bed to the door. When I do reach the door, no matter how gently and thoughtfully I pull it closed, there will come a point where, against all logic and fairness, it will make a frightening, nerve-jangling sound that I can only describe like this:
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEERRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAA . . .
Once safely out of the bedroom, the world of possibilities opens wide to the life-loving morning guy. Master of his fate and captain of his ship, he turns the canvas of a brand new day into his own personal work of art unencumbered by the critical eyes of others.
Want to finish off those last few chicken wings from the night before? First come, first serve.
Tempted to pair that first cup of coffee with some leftover chocolate mousse from the French bakery? You know what you like.
Feel like reading the paper all the way through from front to back? Feed your head, free press fanatic.
“Morning, whacha been up to?” my well-rested wife asks cheerfully as she emerges from the bedroom a couple of hours later to find me sprawled half-asleep across the sofa on the patio, clutching the sports section.
“You should have seen it,” I gushed with true-blue morning guy passion. “I was out at the beach watching the sun come up. It rose slowly, timidly at first, then, as if sensing my anticipation, turned on the charm full-tilt, flooding the horizon with brilliant red, orange and purple streaks. It was like a beautiful, awe-inspiring dream.”
“Maybe it was like a dream because you fell asleep reading the paper out here on the patio,” Sherry speculated.
“Maybe,” I acknowledged begrudgingly. “But the early bird gets dibs on the first story of the day and that’s mine.”
“Is that chocolate mousse on your chin?” Sherry asks suspiciously.
“Well don’t just stand there,” I snort engagingly. “Grab a cup of coffee and let me fill you in on my trip to France!”
It’s time the world finally awakened to one ageless, irrefutable fact: We morning guys lead full, rich, adventure-packed lives and we do it all quietly and gracefully each day before most people get up.
And by the way, the sunrise this morning was incredible. You’ll just have to take my word for it.
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Alan Williamson is an award-winning writer with 27 years in the field of true fiction (advertising). A practical man who knows that writing for a living is risky going, he has taken steps to pursue a second, more stable career as a leggy super model. Alan can be reached at [email protected]. © 2010 Alan Williamson.