When in the course of human events it becomes necessary to forcibly contort five people (and their luggage) into the significantly constrained space of a Pontiac Vibe, one must ask himself whether or not writing of such an event is truly appropriate.
It’s one thing to associate yourself with a Pontiac Vibe. But to share (in a somewhat public forum) that 4 of your colleagues willingly climbed aboard for the ride to LAX actually borders on slander and libel. In hopes of avoiding any legal action, I will not reveal any names in this post.
Actually, the ride wasn’t all that bad.
Sure, I had to endure countless witty, yet biting remarks about my lack of taste in rental cars and my inability to confront Avis for doing this to me week after week. And sure it was embarrassing to be passed by every rattletrap on the road, including a husky man on a Vespa. (Yes, I really was.) Obviously, those are scars I’ll carry with me for many, many months to come. But in the end, they will all fade. The mind, after all, has a way of smoothing over – or completely burying – life’s most traumatic events, doesn’t it?
Please say it does.
No, in the end, I think what will stick with me more than anything else I experienced that evening will be the fact that the bartender at the Gordon Biersch in LAX greeted me as if I had just walked into my friendly, neighborhood watering hole. The bartender’s name is Moe. And Moe knew exactly what I wanted before I ordered. He gave our group the type of priority service reserved for regulars. Moe did everything he could to make me feel right at home.
But you know what? No one ever wants to feel that much at home in an airport. Even if it is LAX. And even if it is a bar.
It was at that point in the evening that I realized that the travel and long hours had taken their toll. I might be going a little bit crazy. Or maybe a lot crazy. Regardless of which it truly was, it was the kind of crazy that manages to impair your judgment. To the point where you may just be willing to try the impossible.
Something never before imagined.
Something like squeezing five seemingly professional people into a Pontiac Vibe and cruising down the Pacific Coast Highway. If that doesn’t scream CRAZY, I’m really not sure exactly what does.
The only comfort in all of this is that I was not alone. There were at least four others who were at least as crazy as I was.
Let’s hope my sanity loss is only temporary.
And to the rest of you (and you know who you are), best of luck with your own mental state.
