Sunday, February 24, 2008

Flight

As I considered the overweight middle aged woman in the SUV beside me stuck at the red light earnestly popping a zit in her rear view mirror, the thought occurred to me I might be in for an unpleasant day.

It was a bitterly cold, albeit thankfully bright, morning and I was off to San Jose for a full day of interviews. I've decided that getting divorced, moving into an apartment and immersing myself into the Love of my life wasn't enough change and stress (both positive and negative) for me. So, I've added looking for a new job and making a, what I hope to me, total career and industry change.

In reality, the move is not a masochistic one, but mandatory. I've tried to avoid changing jobs, but in the process rode my current situation down a bit too far for comfort as my company, customer and industry hit a chaotic confluence.

I found myself blankly staring at my computer screen, unwilling (actually, unable it seemed) to focus and read the red e-mails peppered with exclamation points dually reporting that the message is "urgent" and the sender is an asshole.

I recently completely missed an internal preparation breakfast before a customer meeting. I had never before even been late, let alone absent, for a meeting. I had been talking to my Love on my mobile and she asked me why I sounded so glum.

My response, "I'm driving in a car I don't own to a place I don't want to be to meet people I don't like to discuss matters I no longer care about to keep a job I don't like to make money I don't need to pay for a house I don't live in and an apartment I wish I didn't."

After that, I pretty much puttered around aimlessly for the next few hours, getting gas, vacuuming my car, going through a wash, drinking coffee and eating some donuts in the Dunkin' Donuts parking lot sitting in my car (something I hadn't done for years since hitting rock bottom back then).

The real eye opener came afterwards in a crowded airport terminal in the midst of many members of my team. I had what I later realized was a panic attack and decided not to board the plane to Florida for the customer event I was hosting. I wasn't nervous about the flying part, I've flown over 600,000 air miles and I only thought I was going to die once (just for a split second as the plane banked suddenly in the right during a wicked storm over Lake Michigan). I just shut down thinking about more wasted hours traveling to meaningless meetings.

My team was very compassionate and talked to me like I was a scared 6th grader which at the time I really appreciated because my racing mind couldn't compute.

I remember sitting there in the empty terminal calming down and gathering my thoughts for the drive home. All my life I desperately clung to the myth of total self control as my primary method of survival, so the whole episode was unsettling.

I now sit ensconced in 1st class (upgrade, baby) penning this blog on my way to San Jose. When I say penning, I mean that quite literally. I had hoped to write this on my laptop during the flight, but I am not able to do so.

Because I left the fucking thing at the security checkpoint.

Ah yes, another sign that this day might prove to me a bit of a challenging one.

Now as I sit here hearing the vestiges of ways I have relegated to the past ringing in my head ("You idiot, how could you have forgotten such a thing?! You've never done so before! Pay attention!") I calmly inquire to myself instead, "What can I learn from this?"

The first thing I learn is that my handwriting sucks. (I am laughing now because I wrote the word "sucks" so poorly I had to cross it out and write it again. I hope the guy beside me doesn't think I'm laughing at him because he just dropped some of his omelet on his sweater.)

My hands first found a keyboard during 6th grade when my father introduced me to the membrane keypad of the Sinclair ZX81. Since then my fingers have been tickling the QWERTY of many a typewriter and computer (and, being an engineer and a computer geek, that was the only thing those fingers were exploring for decades, believe me).

So, I forgot my laptop at the screening area for the first time. It is getting increasingly difficult to get through the scanners anyway. I've started having to remove my belt because it seems they increased the sensitivity lately and the buckle was triggering the alarm. As I prefer to avoid the gruff man handling of a pat down (keeping that activity shared exclusively with my Love and my tailor) I obediently de-belt, de-shoe, de-watch... demean?

It makes me wonder why I'm able to fly with a belt at all. Couldn't I use this thing as a weapon of strangulation? Shoe bombs we worry about, belt nooses, no problem.

I did read about a nude flight starting to operate and I think that would basically be the sure fire method of preventing highjackings. There are many fun things to do while nude, but commandeering a jet is not one of them.

Although I find the concept of sailing through the clouds unburdened by clothing rather calming and appealing the downsides cancel it out.

As I understand it, you are asked to disrobe while on the plane instead of, more logically, in the security line. At 6'4" it is difficult enough for me to sit on the plane, let alone strip. In fact, on this flight while I was walking to the bathroom I stood up and immediately slammed by head into the overhead movie screen. I shook my head in mildly amused embarrassment and kept walking up the aisle. Only to bang my head into the next overhead TV screen.

Back to nude flying, the deal breaker for me; the overweight gentleman sitting next to me by the window just asked me to let him out to the bathroom. I notice his vacated seat is filled with crumbs and one discarded paper clip.

Imagining his bare bottom embedded with such debris brushing past me brings me back to harsh, clothed reality.

Harsh reality I am better equipped to deal with nowadays, allowing myself to embrace melancholy without slipping into depression but also ride the highs of happiness without flying into fitful fancy.

So what, I forgot my laptop. What is the worst that could happen? I made a fresh full backup rather recently (sweet) and I have paper to write on and books to read.

It reminds me of the last flight I took with three colleagues (and, more importantly, friends) of mine; the return one from the internal meeting I talked about in Hotel blog. We were sitting at the airport restaurant / bar patiently awaiting our departure while scanning the monitors noticing that every 15 minutes or so our flight was pushed back another half hour. Not a comforting trend, but all the flights to Chicago that day had either been cancelled or delayed. There was a blizzard passing through the area and that spells trouble for the busiest airport in the world (placed in one of the worst climates).

Undaunted, we laughed and drank a few local beers and ate some lunch consisting of local food (pulled pork, which despite being served at the airport was actually quite tasty). (Traveler's tip: Always eat and drink local. There are rare exceptions; like when your chopsticks pull out a rooster's head from the boiling pot in the middle of the table in Beijing, China. Don't eat that.)

One of the guys joked around with the waitress, playing one of our favorite table games, "Guess the country of origin from the accent." I was correct with eastern European, but none of us got Bulgaria right. It was fun until one of the guys told her his diet Coke was flat and she responded walking away, "What do I look like, the bartender?"

We moved closer to our departure gate and sat down at the restaurant / bar there (which was the exact same one as the one we just left. Apparently the designers never heard the term "variety is the spice of life". They just assumed alcohol was enough.)

It was there we watched solemnly as all the flights to Chicago on the monitor were changed to CANCELLED.

None of us fancied the idea of another night in Raleigh, no matter how pretty it was there. We wanted to get home, and I was still hopeful I could make the party my Love was having at her house for a few of our friends.

We checked the monitor for the closest destination to Chicago that was still available. Oddly enough, there was a flight to Milwaukee still on the board. That would give us a 2 hour drive to home, so we went to the desk to transfer. Coming back through security grasping our newly found tickets home, we were flagged by security. It freaks them out when a group of people suddenly changes their destination city, even when there is a logical explanation.

The security guard used a loud Monty Python accent to corral us into a special area and none of us found him funny, much to his disappointment. After we were cleared, we crammed into the small full jet headed to our next destination. The people on the flight were not happy. The businesswoman sitting next to me was so bitter she even complained about the descent. "This is the longest descent I've ever seen! What are they doing!". I was going to tell her to chill out, the pilot was landing us into a blizzard and we should be happy to be alive, but I figured that would just get me a well manicured finger nail jabbed into my eye socket so I nodded sympathetically and turned up the volume on my iPod. (Yes, we were able to fly a small jet into a smaller city experiencing the same weather as Chicago. It isn't logical, but I wasn't arguing.)

We rented a car and were soon making our way south on the highway. There were plenty of accidents, but luckily they were all on the northbound side. Seeing the miles of slowly moving vehicles on the other side, the police with their flashing lights, and the cars in the ditch was a chilling sight, but we were undaunted.

That is, until, we realized we were rather hungry and really could go for a bratwurst.

Much to the chagrin of the Scotsman in the group, the Italians and I were hankering for some pork products and what better place than the Mecca of Meat, Milwaukee?

We found the Brat Stop on our GPS and stopped in for a pit stop. It was snowing heavily and we were almost the only ones in this huge place. It was late, the weather was terrible and we were still hours from home, but at least we had each other.

Feasting on fried cheese, fried jalapeƱos (stuffed with cheese), fried vegetables, fried chicken wings and, for the main course, bratwursts, sauerkraut and German potato salad all washed down with a local beer (Spotted Cow from New Glarus: Hard to find in Illinois, but worth the trip to Wisconsin.) we joked and laughed and forgot our shared problems at the office. We talked about women as well, and this reminds me about one of the unexpected perks about working with nerds; they are for the most part able to carry on a conversation concerning women without using words like "tits" or "bitch".

I even got to talk about my Love, being gently grilled by the guys as to whether or not I was running away from something horrible rather than to something special. I appreciated their caring inquiry, and talked about how my new relationship was an unexpected gift. Unbeknownst to me, my Love was at her party with the two intrepid people who braved to storm to attend doing basically the same thing, talking about me and our relationship.

In a few more hours, we were all safe and sound back with our families at home (except for me, I was just back at my apartment alone, but safe).

So, what started out as a potential disaster ended up being a pork laden journey drawing my traveling and I companions closer together.

And, what stated out as an unpleasant day and trip to San Jose turned into a job offer.

Next flight: out of my crappy company!

3 comments:

Bettie K. said...

Baby, that fire is smoking hot!!! :) You know that Home Land Security has posted your picture in every major airport and with the caption---"Belt Bandit". Actually, you may be contacted to find out how you would execute a "noose like" hostage situation. Now when you fly, a Marshall is going to be assigned to you....

The idea of flying nude makes me want to vomit for the EXACT reason you mentioned. I can't stand crumbs on a seat and I rarely put my hand into the pouch that holds the magazines in fear of what I might pull out....And what about general secretions...butt juice for one...

I'm surprised that you remembered how to write...I only print because my cursive is sooo bad. But truth be told, I don't even know if I can remember how to write cursive....

The Brat Stop is an American institution and should be visited by all. Next time get the cheese fries...they won't disappoint!

Tex's Missus said...

Thank God you write so damn well and so damn engagingly AMLite so that every post is like a gripping mini-novel that you can't put down - otherwise the fact that there is often sooooo long between posts would cause me to drop you like a hot potato :)

Yes, yes I know you have a special Love in your life and that you no doubt spend much of your time...well, being in Love - but we your loyal fan base are waiting ever so (im)patiently for your next instalment, ok ?

VAMP said...

Stopped back by today, and have to agree with Tex's missus. Your writing is most enjoyable. It's a gift I certainly don't have.