Wednesday, April 01, 2009
Dreams and Demons
Hey Big Sexy
I flew to another part of the US for a possible employment op—and it turned out to be not so attractive after all. I spent time preparing and making arrangements to travel, just a lot of effort for a job I knew I most likely did not want because the pay would be ridiculously low. But it was worth it to get out there and do my best.
The staff was nice enough—one thing that did catch my attention was the young woman Michele. We all met in the old part of the city, at a very well know and famous restaurant. My flight was delayed by bad weather—bumpy and turbulent I’ll just say. I landed, got a taxi, got to my hotel, and made it to said famous restaurant a few minutes after the appointed time by briskly walking almost a mile down the narrow sidewalks of the old city—they were late.
Cold rain had soaked Michele, one of the three staff I met for dinner. That’s okay. I had an umbrella with me so I was fine. Not good form to show up to this kind of engagement looking like a hay-seed.
Frumpy and portly, this Michele woman—who was on the committee that got me there. The next morning when I met the committee again, she wore the same dingy soaked clothes as the night before at our dinner. You be the judge Gentle Reader of This Blog…
Walking around this prestigious university on the East Coast, I felt like an Alien visitor—with no friends. It was cold, wet, dark, and subdued—I was clean, pressed, fit, and tan. I don’t think that they knew what to make of the likes of me.
After the interview process and the quick tour of the digs—I was lead to the shuttle that would take me to the Metro. The thing was that all of the staff there were so new themselves that they weren’t quite sure where this location was—and I had to insist that they deliver me to this stop. After a good deal of confusion trying to find and print out a map of the campus, I was lead to the right place just as the free student shuttle pulled up.
I felt like trash being left at the curb on garbage day.
I rode the Metro with the masses. That felt much better being with the people and just being myself and not having to perform for a committee.
On the way back to Tucson, weather delayed my flights—I ran to gates and just got on board the planes. While in the air, rough skies made for restless sleep. All that work mentally for one day in the hot seat—10 hours of flying cross country—twice.