All The World's A Stage - A Collection Of Monologues.

A man behind the wheel, talks to the audience:

BILLY: Every day at 6pm sharp, I hop in my car. I take Sepulveda home, to avoid rush hour on the 405. I put on my Neil Young CD. And sing my heart out during all those thirty seven minutes of my drive home. Every day. But there was something different about today: It's 6 'o'clock. Like every other day. But the road seems foggy, from the get go. So foggy I wonder if there was a wildfire up in the mountains. I turn off Neil Young and listen to the radio a bit. Nope. Nothing about fires. So I slip Neil back in and turn my headlights to brave the fog. It's getting blurry now. So blurry I have to slow down quite a bit. I can see only the back lights of the Honda in front of me. And then even that disappears from my view. I can only see an inch in front of me now. An inch of gravel and pavement. I turn Neil down so I can hear my heart beating louder now. Hearing it unnerves me but strangely it also calms me a bit. Something about listening to a constant pulse, I guess... Don't know what, but something... I figure I'll check my gps to see if there is any accident I should be aware of. But there's no service where I am.. none at all.. I must be right near the 405 now. I slow down even more. I think I am driving twenty now. So slow and yet I still can only see an inch and everything beyond is a mystery, is the unknown, is non existent. And then... in the blur... peeks... out of the shadows...: a LIGHT. It's not a traffic light. It's the car in front of me. It's STOPPED. I press on the break as fast as I can. Squeak! My engine makes a sound, it doesn't like my hasty breaking... but the poor Subaru will have to deal with it, after all I was a second from hitting that Honda. With my leg on the break, I wait. A minutes goes by. Then another. And another. Five minutes in I start wondering what the heck is going on on Sepulveda Blbd in a foggy evening in January!? And then... A tap on my window shield. It's a woman, and she has concern in her eyes and soft long black hair. I roll my window. 'Yes?' 'Hi! Yes, God, I hope you can help me? I have, um, a flat tire or something. The car won't move. It won't move!' Her voice breaks at the end of her plea. I start thinking she must have something important to go to. I give her the ole' heroic 'You got it' and head out of the car. She leads me to her car and standing side by side now I see how beautiful this woman is, how enchanting...  She introduces herself: She is Marti. It's short for Martinia. It's an Italian name and she is named after her great grandfather. And then I know: From the fog comes the light. This is the woman I will spend the rest of my life with. Marti. She is the one. Yes, there was definitely something different about today. And it wasn't just THE FOG.