Madelin recently recommended the book The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho. She says it inspires her, and two weeks ago I bought it.
In the story, a young shepherd leaves his sheep and the world he knows to search for a treasure he has seen in his dreams. One of the first people he meets advises him that, at the beginning of such a journey, people enjoy "beginner's luck". Things are easy at first -- when you truly want something, the entire universe conspires to help you achieve it.
But after you've started your journey, you encounter tests along the way. Things that make many people give up their journey.
Two weeks ago I felt I needed a pilgrimage.
This summer has been a heartbreaking one. At the beginning I was so thrilled to be with Fernanda. I had never felt that way before; I was totally in love. Since then I hoped that things would work out with her . . half the time I fantasized about visiting her in Argentina, or her next trip to New York, and how great it would feel to hug her in the airport.
I spent the other half of the time slowly realizing that it's not going to happen. She likes me, I'm sure, but her priorities are elsewhere. This drama exists more in my head than in reality, but this summer felt like a long and painful breakup. I wouldn't wish it on anyone.
For most of the year, I had planned to go to Burning Man with Joshua Suzanne. She talks about it all the time, how great it is, how it's her "energy for the year." I kept saying, "I'm going to go . . . I'll go this year . . . " But once I met Fernanda I started saving my money to visit her instead.
In the past month I realized that I wouldn't be taking any trips to see Fernanda and my future was not unfolding as I wished. I was lost and needed to find some perspective.
So when I talked with Joshua on Friday, I wondered aloud if I could still go to Burning Man. I checked my bank accounts and realized I could go, if my clients were okay with it. Each one was generous with their timelines, and on Friday night I bought my tickets. We planned to meet in Reno on Sunday afternoon, then drive into the dusty Nevada desert.
My plans were last-minute. I had promised work to my clients. I had promised to see Madelin perform on Saturday night. And my flight was at 6:15 on Sunday morning. I knew it would be a hectic time, but I was so excited to go. I knew that the trip would be good for my spirit, and I needed it badly.
Going to Madelin's show took a lot of my precious time. The L was broken, so I had to take a bus to the subway, then the subway to Manhattan, then another train to get to the Upper East Side. But I wanted to be a good friend and I had promised.
By the time I got home, I was very tired. I still had work to do, and when my car arrived at 4:15 I hadn't had any sleep. I got to the gate at 4:45 for my 6:15 flight. I reclined in a very comfortable chair and crossed my arms over my pillow, resting my chin on the soft flannel.
Then I woke up at 6:20.
I can't believe nobody woke me up! Who just "hangs out" in an airport terminal with a pillow clutched to their chest? At 6 in the morning!?!? Opening my eyes to the empty terminal, my heart sank.
I knew I'd be late in meeting my friends in Reno. But I scrambled to find alternate means, to hopefully show up only a few hours late. I called Expedia and explained the situation. They asked for verification in the form of a phone number and email address. I opened my Expedia account a few years ago, with my "personal" email address. Since then I've grown up slightly, but never changed the account to reflect it.
"646-519-1557", I said.
"And the email address?"
"michael@upyourbuttandaroundthecorner.com", I mumbled.
Expedia gave me flight information to get to Reno by 5:30, but they couldn't book those flights - I'd have to go to the ticket counter for that.
The ticket counter said that those flights were with United, not USAir. I had to call Expedia again. They asked for my email address.
It turns out that you get no credit for sleeping through your flight, even if you're at the gate. With no credit, I would have needed new $750 tickets to get to Reno the same day. I accepted that defeat and waited for my flight to Pittsburgh.
The Pittsburgh airport was COLD. I was wearing flip-flops (a security threat that had to be x-rayed at Laguardia), and it was difficult to sleep with cold toes. Oddly enough, Pittsburgh's airport has a sock store, so I bought an extremely comfortable pair of tube socks. With my new socks and a stolen airplane blanket I found a place to nap.
After an hour or two I went to the information desk, and the woman there suggested I sleep in Terminal C. The Pittsburgh airport no longer has international flights, so it's quiet down there. I took my gear and found a spot under some chairs. Here's an excerpt from my journal:
Madelin said that missing the flight is part of my adventure. That there's a reason for it that I just don't see yet. I told her I was trying to think that way.
The only idea that's come to me so far is that this is my trip. The terminal is empty. Literally, I'm the only one in this room full of about 500 chairs. I was supposed to meet up with 5 others in Reno to drive out to the desert. Now I'll be going alone. Driving to Black Rock by myself. Finding their camp by myself.
Going to Wal-Mart and shopping for supplies by myself. I thought there would be some hand-holding but 15 extra minutes of sleep took that away. I told Tom on Wednesday that I thought I needed some kind of pilgrimage (but I didn't know what). It seems that I'm on one.
