Tag: Adventure

Of Nothing

Posted on by Paul In The Buff

From June 3, 2009 - a time when my traveling was all but over and all I had left were past reflections of what was, and what I learned.

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Isn’t it funny how a flavor can be a smell? Like the sweet taste of scotch on my own breath as I exhale. The flavor invades my nose and I smell... a place. Smells remind us of so much, so vividly of our past.

The smell takes me back to a bar; a random bar on some random summer night in a random city on some random trip. Does it matter where? It doesn’t to me. Who was I with? No one. And that's meaningless.

All that matters is the feeling. That feeling of being able to lose myself in the empty anonymity of being nowhere in particular. To sit at a bar and drink. To be nobody to everyone. To watch the people around me come and go while the ambient music is just a little too loud to be pleasing. The glow of my cell phone in front of me, beckoning me to start a text conversation with someone, or to drag me a little closer back to the reality I’m so far from.

Happy to be far from.

Days long gone.

The time, like all time, was fleeting. But the magic of discovery, and discovering me was vital. Learning what this life has to offer before returning to a trap set once more with the intent of pinning me down, holding me tight, choking me and snapping my neck just for the pleasure of hearing that halting snap.

Now, to play out the details of what remains while still remembering that smell.

And those nights of a different nothing than the nothing of my life.

Insomnia

Posted on by Paul In The Buff

Sometimes the tired mind gets to a place it couldn't go when rested. Thoughts flow, and words from them. Ideas begin to set in and discoveries are made....

This is from October 16, 2007. My birthday. It was a turbulent time in my life when everything seemed upside-down.

Except for one glimmer of hope.

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I slept horrible last night. Or perhaps better stated, I didn’t sleep horrible last night. Knowing I had an early morning to get into work, and the hell of a commute in New York City facing me to start, I tossed and turned just waiting for my wake-up call.

I suppose it didn’t help that my mind was running circles around the same issues it has been running circles around for quite some time now. What should I do? All these daunting tasks; the mountains that stand in my way, the raging rivers I must cross to reach what I want.

It is a metaphor I’ve used before… like trying to swim across a raging river; knowing what I’m leaving behind on one shore, unsure if I am strong enough to make it to the other.

The man who would play it safe would just live in contentment in the safety of the shore he was already standing on. Why dive into swirling torrents full of danger? What is so bad about quiet contentment, even if it isn’t exactly what makes you happy?

But as time has gone on, it’s not so much I can’t bear to stand on the shore anymore, but the river is rising. My room on this shore is eroding into the swift currents; I can’t stand by and let it sweep me under into a quiet despair and drown me. No, it’s sink or swim now.

I have to swim.

Not only do I have to swim, I have to realize there is so little for me on this shore it is time to throw myself to the swelling white-capped rapids before me. The rocks are sharp and jagged, the waters full of undertows. I can almost feel the mist of the waterfalls in the distance mocking me and calling me to fail as it chills my skin.

Sink, or swim?

Or simply succumb to the inevitable?

I must swim.

And what lies on the other shore? What is my guarantee that it is any better on that side of the river? Perhaps the murky waters have already eaten away too much of that shore I’m only swimming towards nothing, no future, no happiness. Nothing but the slow drowning death I’m already trying to avoid.

Still,it’s a risk I have to take.

Through risk, we grow. Through risk, we fail or succeed.

Only through taking risks can we achieve what we want in life. No one said life would be easy. The easy way is to stand on the shore and deny it dissolving under your feet. To keep backing up… regressing… avoiding the future and trying to hide in the comforts of the past.

That has never been my way of doing things. It is a risk I must take.

So if this is the end of who I am, so be it. I’ll shed off the clothes I once wore and dive head first into the cold, sucking river before me. I’ll swim as hard and fast as I can, on my own.

I will reach the other shore, on my own.

Or, I’ll drown. But at least I’ll know I wasn’t afraid to take the risk and try to live my life to the fullest.

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After writing this, and settling into my day, I received the following birthday greeting:

This day, is my new favorite day.

This day, brought so many other days that now, spark joy and breathe onto the flames of my happiness, desire, creativity, and bring a deep breath of life.

What an amazing twist of life, yarn and strands of what...fate? whatever it is...it twists and turns down paths neither of us can understand, yet here we are. And we collapse, we fall to the ground laughing because this is the perfect friendship.

So today, because this is the day that it all began before I even knew, I will dance. All day I will dance and sing, I will kiss the sky, stomp my feet. Beat a rhythm into the ground with my happiness and my small corner of the world will know how I feel.

I wish you the greatest, I wish only that you know the happiness that I do. The warmth that fuels you, brings a smile to your face as it has to mine, will be my first gift.

The first gift of many.

Perhaps the most positive, loving message I had ever received on my birthday....

A Crazy Day

Posted on by Paul In The Buff

A quick story about the struggles of air travel, from January 20, 2009

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Crazy day. A tale that actually began and ended at Gate 2. The gate used by the flights going to and returning from Regan National.

I had to go to Louisville today for a couple days worth of work which I managed to finish in just less than 5 hours total time. So I turned myself around and grabbed a flight back home. Made for a nice 20 hour day with travel and all, but being at home and alone I guess is better than being in Kentucky, at all.

Almost didn’t get there though; this morning at Regan National, they couldn’t find our plane.

If you’ve never flown US Airways Express through Regan, consider yourself lucky, but then listen to how archaic this system is:

Flights all park out on the tarmac and the airport buses the passengers to and from the planes and the terminal. They have two gates from which all express flights depart, which basically just designates which bus you get on, but they release three flights for boarding at a time.

Fortunately this morning was a light traffic day, unlike the afternoon, and evening when Regan National turned into a zoo because of the inauguration ceremony tomorrow. There were only about 10 people on the flight to Louisville but we all got a tour of the departure area because they couldn’t decide which plane was actually ours. So the bus took us from the terminal, to a plane, and back… then back out to the planes, then back to the terminal… then back out to the planes…. Then back to the terminal.

In between each trip the driver had to have a face to face discussion or argument with crew, ground personnel and the gate dispatcher. He has a radio on the bus, so I still have no idea why he had to drive back and forth to discuss these things in person.

But eventually we found a plane they would let us use and imagine the surprised crew who had been there waiting for us for 20 minutes.

Ahhh… Monday mornings are the best.

And next week I start five straight weeks of work in Louisville…

I will need drinks. Lots of strong, strong drinks.

Car Troubles in Kentucky

Posted on by Paul In The Buff

This one, from February 12, 2009. A strange tale to offer some perspective on the issues I used to face when traveling.

This was one of the more unusual ones.

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So, here is a good one.

Just when I thought Kentucky couldn’t get worse…

..on the advice of the vendor reps I am working with, they recommended staying at the Seelbach hotel – a 100 year old, legendary hotel in down town Louisville. A lot of history, now owned by Hilton and refurbished... a really neat place.

I have to say the hotel itself is amazing. A lot of old character and charm… comfortable just like any other Hilton. Good restaurants and bars inside.

But the oddest thing happened tonight.

The reps suggested I valet my car. The difference between self-parking and valet is only $4 and valet is so much easier. All good by me. I returned to the hotel around 7PM tonight and told valet I would be back in about an hour to grab the car to go out to dinner. They said, no problem, they’ll just leave it up front for me and ready for my return.

Cool.

So around 8PM I went downstairs and there was my car right where I parked it. Fantastic. I approach the valet stand and ask the obviously nervous and scrambling attendant for the key to my car.

“Oh, you have the silver Nissan?” he asks.

“Yeah, I think it’s number 302 or something… the valet this morning wouldn’t give me my claim receipt so…”

He cuts me off… nervous and panicky.

“We have a problem, well, not our fault, really, but, it’s a serious problem…” he said rapidly.

“Ohhh k.. what’s the problem?”

“Well *ahem* this has never happened before… we’re really sorry... but… apparently someone broke into our valet box as stole the key for your car.”

Me *dumbfounded*.

“Uhhhhh.. ok? So… ?”

“Well, they took keys to about six cars... all we had in there. Yours is one of them.. and the other two next to yours. The van has been clicking like someone has been hitting the buttons so the police are hiding across the street watching all the cars. Your car won’t go anywhere without them seeing so that isn’t a problem… but... do you need your car?”

At this point… what would you say?

I have nothing of value in the car… and it’s a rental… so… whatever. This is more of an inconvenience than anything. But… wow.

The guy couldn’t be more apologetic or accommodating. He paid for a taxi to take me to dinner, and back. But, seriously, how does a reputable, high-end hotel in the middle of a busy downtown market district allow this to happen?

Seriously.

This was a first for me.

I returned to the hotel after dinner and was met by the hotel manager and a locksmith. They explained where they were – since it was a rental they couldn’t just go to Nissan and get a new fob keyed, they had to go through Avis. They asked me for my contract, which of course was locked in the car. No worries – I called Avis first and went around the phone call transfer circuit to get to someone who could handle this. He suggested there might be a spare fob in the spare tire well, or call the airport maintenance tomorrow and the might have one. Odds are, neither are the case since the car has tags from another area.

The hotel head honcho - he too was apologetic and after the locksmith broke into the car to see if we could locate the spare fob in the trunk he dove right into the back seat to dig into the trunk and find that fob. Pretty spry for his age.

No luck. The car still sits in front of the hotel.

They have all been very attentive to the situation... but…

Does it ever get more strange than Kentucky?

Part two…

Had to put some time into working this out with Avis this morning. Of course at 8AM none of the hotel management was in yet and the lackey running the valet desk was up to his ass in pissed off people demanding their cars. I had more luck dealing with the locksmith who had returned with keys for another person’s car and was checking on replacing the fob for mine.

Avis agreed to just replace the car and were bringing a new one on a flat-bed, which they would then haul out the Nissan on.

Unfortunate – I really like the Nissan. Now I’ll probably get a 1972 Pinto…

But that will wait until I return to the hotel. There is still work to be done. The locksmith was kind enough to give me a ride to the hospital – which is only about 8 blocks from the hotel. Still, on a cold morning that is more than appreciated.

I’ll deal with the rest tonight…

Sunday Night Story

Posted on by Paul In The Buff

It has been a long time since I've bored everyone with one of my Sunday Night musings, stories or Vogon quality poems. Here is a little look inside my head from August 29, 2009.

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Isn’t it funny how often we consider our own lives and the paths we took, and ask ourselves, “was that the right path for me?”

Ok, maybe I’m the only one. I do self-reflect a lot. I think it helps me re-stabilize myself and figure our just what the hell it is I’m doing. Not necessarily what I’m doing right, or what I’m doing wrong… but just to pay attention to my own actions and how they relate to the things I want.

When I was younger my dream was to move to California and bum around a lot. High ambitions, I know, but I wanted to get away from my family, and the feeling of being trapped by expectations I would never live up to. I wanted to find my own way, learn to live and survive on my own, and become a different person than my environment made me.

Life happens. I never made that trip, and I’m still here. Am I becoming the person I wanted to be? Slowly, I think I am. Do I stay on that path? Not always… life is tough. There is a lot to do every day, tough decisions to be made, heartaches to get past, responsibilities to live up to, tasks to put behind, expectations… always expectations from myself and others…

*whew*

It’s a lot.

But I feel fortunate for the good people in my life that I love and cherish that help me through it every day. They live up to the only reasonable meaning of life I’ve ever found – each of us helping each other get through it, whatever it may be.

Still it comes down to me. What do I want and how do I go about getting it? Questions I ask myself and far too often have no answer to.

But since I’ve stopped travelling I feel like my life has grown a bit stagnant. Time to start looking outside of these walls again…