I slept dreaming of other lives. Waking up at my friend's house in Austin to childish giggles and laughs. I rolled out of bed and showered for the first in several days, purple running down my back and into the white basin. Coffee, fretting over my packing, calling the cab. Waiting, waiting, late, waiting. The plan was to stop by the airport, drop off my luggage for my 5pm flight and head downtown to catch a couple movies before heading back to LA.
Cab arrived. I piled my luggage in the back. It was heavy. Made fast friends with the cab driver who was from Nigeria. He tried to hit on me (as usual) and I started talking about the boyfriend. He wasn't really my type. My friend Suz had more in common. I prefer the quiet geek type with secret superpowers. During the drive to the airport, I told him I would need another cab back to the airport later in the day. He offered to pick me up. This could be sketchy, right? But he was a sincerely nice guy. MBA, considering Law degree. Used to work at a semi-conductor company in Austin until it relocated to Korea. Maybe this was a sign from the universe. So far, I had not had one second of trouble finding a cab when I needed one, despite the explosion of SXSWers. I took this as yet another boon from the universe - the tricky part was finding a cab on time who would be able to rush me from the movie to the airport in time to catch my flight - and here I was - sitting in his cab. He dropped me off, and we made arrangements for him to pick me up later.
Then I went to check in my luggage. This was much more difficult than I had planned. I should have known, with my liter of Tito's Vodka and the bullet belt in my carry on. Then there was the 4 hour pre-flight check in limit. And no lockers. I had to think on my feet and be creative. I rebooked on a flight that would leave in less than an hour. Twenty minutes later, my luggage was on it's way to TSA's security check. I had my boarding pass in hand. 30 minutes. Could I get downtown in 30 minutes? I had nothing to lose. I decided to give it a try.
Instead of making my way through the security checkpoint, I ran downstairs and jumped in the first cab I saw. It was playing LA Woman. Another sign. We made it downtown in 18 minutes or so. Just in time for me to slide into Heather meets her Inspiration post, where I was greeted by the "Dawning of the Age of Aquarius" playing on screen. Aquarian auspiciousness.
My luggage was half-way to LA and I was hailing another taxi. Legs tumble into the back seat. One minute later I'm in a deep conversation with the driver about God and messages and fame and following the truth and faith and all my favorite topics. His delight in the mundane delighted me. Reminded me of my own delight in the mundane. And then I felt it all around me. The gold dust of awareness.
He dropped me off in front of the theatre with time to rebook my flight and see the last set of experimental shorts. Then the other cab driver showed up and took me to the airport, where I was slightly detained in security.
One beer and two tacos later I was on my way to El Paso. I pressed my face against the window and watched the desert - my heart dripping blood into the dry soil. Images of mountains, dirt roads, open playas of the Mojave flickered in my synapses. The memory of a winter trip to the Grand Canyon, Bryce up to Nevada and the loneliest road. Adventures with someone else.
I was jolted out of my memory by the scrambling of fellow passengers jumping out of their seats. Someone was moving spastically. Someone was having a seizure. I thought how fragile human life is. Flight attendants rushing around, calling for a doctor and then the arrival of a totally hot, buff young, geekish/glasses looking EMT. I looked back out the window so as to not stare.
Then there was the conversation with the lawyer/rock star leaving Austin. Our conversation kept us talking into our LA descent, where I failed to recognize my fog covered city. For a moment I thought I was in an actual alternate reality. Vanilla Sky. But it was just a new part of LAX. My luggage was waiting for me, the boyfriend drove up, purring exhaust, and we drove away into the LA night. I was home!
It's an anticlimatic story, isn't it.
After pushing/stretching/going the distance - you arrive - I arrived. I made my destination - overcame the obstacles. There was no cheering crowd saying you made it. There was no award. No ribbon. No picture on the cover of the Wall Street Journal. So where's the validation from the world? Where's the check mark in the "Kick Ass" box? (Last year, I know.)
There is none. It's not about the destination. It's about the journey. Sargasso journeys.
Sometimes the stories are so perfect, the day so delightful, you can't help but roll it around in your head - like a favorite piece of candy.
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