Two Score Miles and Ten

The ORD shuffle: (1)

The story is about inherited assumptions and unquestioned goals; a life that's becomes progressively less satisfying and that starts crumbling around the edges. It's a series of events and decision – all chronicled by way of Journal entries, social-media exchanges, emails and text-messages - that lead the protagonist, Michael Saugus, to look at what's really important in life. It has to do with possessions, prestige, sexuality and gender. And ultimately, with what constitutes happiness.

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FIRST ENTRY

.....22.november 2012, Oakland, California

Journals have been called, if somewhat grandly, the sentinels to our souls.

My own take on writings like these are more along the lines of ever-patient and ever-listening friends who, by their silence, offer a kind of implied approval of the reflections on what we do, what we say, and what we dream of.

This is my umpteenth attempt at keeping a journal; a probably scandalous admission for someone who earns his keep by the occasional bit of writing.

Let's see where these accounts, these thoughts, take us!

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..27.november 2012, Tuesday evening, downtown Loop Chicago

.....Some grand hotel, standard huge atrium, glass elevators. Generic modern-plush.

As of a few hours ago I'm back in Chicago. I'm still on San Francisco time of course, but here, the world is slowly winding down. It's a lovely view of a sunset, looking west over the Euclidean flatness of this place. Or rather, the sky part of the view is great. Looking down from this 22nd floor hotel room is some sort of major railway switching yard. I'd like to say it somehow conjures up a Carl Sandburg image of a rough and broad-shouldered Chicago stereotype but frankly, it's just a lot of tracks.

Earlier today?

It was a familiar setting, the American Airlines ticket office along South Wacker in Chicago's loop. I'd ducked out of a meeting at the Firm's nearby office to pick up a new set of travel itineraries. I know, I know, its almost quaint to the point of eccentric that I still get tickets printed up for me at an airline office but ever since that nightmare of connections after a major deal meeting in Singapore, I've found having genuine airline-printed tickets is STILL the gold standard in clearing up booking confusions. And anyway, it was nice day for the few minute walk, I get a chance to look down at the Chicago River, and grab a latte on the way back to the office.

Not only a familiar setting but an equally standard exchange; "Busy week Mr. Saugus? We've got your flight to Indianapolis and then on to Austin, and back home. Oh, yes, that fly-in to San Diego, all businessmen class, all aisle." After scores of conversations just like this all year, I hardly hear the words – and simply hand over my credit card and think of almost anything else.

Well, it was all a regular script except today I could almost feel the pair of eyes boring into me from the young woman behind me in line, taking in the idea of some vaguely corporate-looking guy picking up a handful of tickets.

I'm gonna bet she thought it was glamorous.

Right, glamorous as in riding a bus.

We smiled at each other as I left the counter and I remember thinking, hey, I can be eccentric but what's a 20-something doing here rather than simply using the airport kiosks? It was a question that didn't stay with me more than a couple of seconds...

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.....next morning, O'Hare

.....Seat 4B, Waiting to push back, ORD to IND.

I was thinking about yesterday at the ticket counter. Actually about her. Expensive leather boots tall enough to make a fashion statement. Definitely cute heels.

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.....29.november Indianapolis

.....Airport Marriott, IND

Me, my slightly rumpled suit, and my rolling bag checked in several hours ago.

Why is it that all the young women at the front desks always look so ...buxom? Do those maroon blazers have some weird optical effect? Do those women buy their jackets waaaay too tight to promote a bountiful look?

Did the client meeting. Discovery Consulting LLP will be proud of their junior (but rising!) strategic planning meeting facilitator! Or maybe no-one else wanted to do this trek?

Cesar salad, a glass of generic Chardonnay and an overpriced fruit-plate from room service are in my future this evening.

And then, there's the sinful indulgence of the overpriced room-movies. It's exquisitely soft-core raunchy, usually so bad that I repeatedly nod off for lack of plot, or cinematographic finesse, or dialog (or all three). I always worry Im going to fall asleep for the night and wake up the next morning with the movie-meter still running. And then having to face down some grumpy email from someone in the travel department back in Mountain View , "... I noticed you saw FIVE movies that night, Michael? "