Sam woke up in excruciating pain. His head throbbed from the previous night's festivities. Looking around at the unfamiliar terrain, he racked his brain trying to figure out what happened. He vaguely remembered a few details from last night. He remembered his friends taking him out to celebrate his last night as a bachelor. He remembered being introduced to a guy with the last name of Cuervo. Most importantly, he remembered that he had a wedding to get to. What he did not know was how he ended up in a Mexican prison or how he would get out in time.
He stirred from the bunk where he lay and noticed the cell door was open, as were the doors in the corridor leading to the prison exercise yard. He thought it was odd for the doors to be open, but then again, nothing else seemed to make sense at the moment. He slowly made his way down the corridor toward the sound of men lifting weights and playing basketball. Coming out of the corridor into the bright noon sun was hard on his eyes, but he welcomed the fresh air. He needed it to clear his head so he could figure out what to do.
As he paused to think about his predicament a guard came out of the corridor and stood right next to him. Sam cleared his throat in order to use his most macho voice. "I need to use the phone. I want to call my lawyer," Sam said as forcefully as he could. The guard looked down, mumbled something in Spanish, then lit a cigarette and walked across the yard to report to his post. Fear began to sink in as Sam thought about his options for getting out of this mess. "It's no use. I don't speak Spanish, and even if I did they would not listen to me," he thought to himself.
Looking around for something or someone to help get him out of this jam, and yet finding none, Sam began to get desperate. With a wedding in just a short time it quickly became evident that his choices were limited. He decided he had to make a run for it.
The size of the prison yard did not frighten him as much as the guard with the automatic weapon whose eyes were fixed on a wide yellow line near the end. Sam noticed something written on the line. He strained to see that it had only two words on it, "ALTO! PELIGRO!" It didn't take being bi-lingual to figure out that whatever it said, it was a warning not to cross the line.
Sam didn't care. He was running out of ideas and running out of time. He only had two choices. He could risk losing his life at the hands of the prison guards or risk losing a lifetime with his beautiful bride. The line was no deterrent. The choice was clear and time was short.
As inconspicuously as he could, Sam tried to stretch and loosen up for the sprint of his life. Not only did he need to make it across the line and past the fence, but he also had to get back to his bride. He had little time to spare. Stretching one last time he took a deep breath and convinced himself he was not crazy for trying. Moving faster and faster he made his way across the prison yard, first jogging then running. Sam cheered himself on, "You can do it. Mind over matter. It's not that far."
His life flashed before his eyes. He recalled how he met his bride. He remembered how they fell in love. He suddenly remembered how he ended up in this prison, but he still had unanswered questions. Was he responsible? Was it his fault the guard slipped and fell or was it too much beer? Did they really have to pick him up and leave him in the cold dark cell?
Neither the line, the fence, nor the wedding seemed very far away. But all of a sudden everything started to happen in slow motion. Time began to stand still.
Sam didn't make it to the wedding.
The tiny snail just couldn't run fast enough. He didn't have any legs. Now he knew that it was the end of things. He also knew why his mother always told him, "Don't do the slime if you can't do the time."
*I thought it would be fun to work with both definitions of a deadline.