Long Journey

I kept a mini-journal whilst on business travel. Cut and pasted directly from the word document, it follows:

Monday, December 17, 2007. 7:10 P.M. Union Station, Amtrak train, aboard and awaiting trip to New York – Penn Station. Dark, chilly, but not oppressively so.
Over the last six days (and has it only been six days? It feels like it has been so much longer.), I have been distracted constantly, always a little shaky, a little sweaty. I'd stayed late at the office, something I do from time to time to talk to people once my shift is over. P.G. came into my office, and his first words to me were "When it rains, it pours."
(The train has just started, and we're trundling along for right now, but I can definitely see this ramping up very quickly. We're leaving the shelter of the train canopy, headed out into the placid black yonder. I know my journey is not over (hell, it has barely begun), but at least for now, I can rest easier now that I am finally on my way to New York City. If I seemd a little distracted over the past week, it was because I was thinking about this.)
I'd been posted to a project in Tennessee a couple of weeks ago, set to start in late January. Great times, I thought to myself, as this meant I'd finally have the opportunity to travel to the client site and do something different from what I'd been doing. Great times. Now, well, it turned out, I was going to be put on a project just before then, and sent to New York now, today, in order to assist an extant project.
(We're now trucking along. The train shakes much like a metro train, and the scenery outside is blurring by just as quickly as a metro train does overground. The conductor has just come by and punched our tickets, something I thought only happened in the movies. We've also just arrived at New Carrolton from Union Station in just over ten minutes.)
This wreaked havoc with my plans of last minute Christmas shopping, as now every minute was essentially my last minute. Still, I found enough time, somehow, to send stuff out and/or get it into the hands of people that would make sure the presents were distributed correctly. And if I gave you money, I apologize, but there was just not enough time this year otherwise.
I have never traveled long distance for business before. I have gone to the Pentagon on business, which proved a mockery of everything I hold dear (logic AND emotion). However, this journey off to the Newer York, well. You tell me what to think. I think part of this fright is that if something goes wrong when I am driving to work, I lose fifteen, twenty minutes. If something goes wrong leaving the state, I lose hours, maybe days, and can't readily make it up by staying fifteen minutes later.
This is now my role as a consultant. I'm sent out to consult. I am a supposed expert on my field, and have been trained to Make The World A Better Place™. And if you believe that load of bull honkey, I have a bridge in Brooklyn I'd like to sell you. Strangely, I'll probably be next to it in about three hours. How did J.L. put it? "Worry is good. If you're not worried, either you're not being challenged, or you don't care enough." I care. I care desperately. Think of me as a working-class version of Dudley Do-Right, trying to do the right thing at the workplace. I don't know if I am, but I'm trying.
(The foldout "desk", if you can call it that, is shaking worse than an alcoholic without his likker. These landmarks are all foreign to me. Hell, I didn't even realize that we'd re-entered Maryland, and for the next thirty minutes or so, I've regained the legal powers that make me such a "prized commodity.")
Last week and weekend were spent wrapping up everything. However, note my version of wrapping up is much like the present I gave to D.C., M.C. and A.W.: covered in a patchwork wrapping and smothered in duct tape, haphazardly bound and not really neat. It works, but it loses several points on style, though if you're postmodern, it gains in style.
Of course, the T.S. Christmas party (Corporate Headquarters version) took place last Friday, so I had an additional task or two to deal with. Like I said, it was a lot of fun, grand time had by all, and there are pictures floating around. The only problem was that I made it home by three in the ante meridian, and woke up around eight in the ante meridian. Burned, scorched, crisped, damn you circadian rhythm.
Saturday whipped past, spent mostly buying presents and some business casual clothing. At six in the post meridian, I looked at the clock, realized I could make it to C.E. and J.E.'s Christmas party, and told myself it would only be a fifteen minute nap. Then I woke up and it was ten in the post meridian.
Sunday saw me shipping out presents, attempting to clean (the one task I always shirk), and packing. Packing carry-on luggage is a crapshoot, and I'm pretty sure all my clothing will come out of the suit case rumpled and sad. However, I also wrapped up some sweat clothes for a-runnin', because I plan on a-runnin' at least one morning or evening outside in the New York rush hour in the piles of snow.
(We've just arrived at BWI, just under half an hour since we set out from Union Station. I might as well just take the train everywhere from now on, this is freaking incredible. To think that with all the requirements for flying, this trip will take about as much time as if I had flown is boggly to my mindery.)
And so we've been lead to today. Today, where all day, the same questions kept getting asked. Did I lock the front door? Did I lock the car door? Do I have my luggage? Do I have everything I'll need in my luggage? Do I know how to get to Union Station? Am I going to be late? Can I get to my hotel? Have I forgotten to plan anything? What if I get lost? What if they don't like me at the client site? What if I can't do the work? Where am I going, and why am I in a handbasket? Is this right? Is this right?
Though it's become a denigrating term, that I've been able to play Jack of All Trades instills me with a little pride. Vigiliant persistence, eternal flexibility. Something needs be done, and I do it. I may not do it to the best of my abilities (witness law school), but I get it done. Right now, as I'm figuratively and literally leaving my comfort zone, I can't help but look out at the Baltimore slums, and smile at my translucent reflection in the mirror. Because, maybe, just maybe, the question that should have been asked isn't "What if I can't," but "What if I can?"
Wednesday, December 19, 2007, 7:52 PM. 1515, hotel between Madison and 38th. Dark, rainy, chilly.
The toll New York takes on you is quite high. The taxi, the subway, the bus, the food, the rent, the parking, the walking, the smoke, the noise, the everything. These past couple of days, the persistent feeling I've had is that of a country bumpkin recently dislocated from his place in society, junked here, and left to explore. Bright lights, big city, and I cannot help but stare all about me.
One of the most embarrassing things about getting to New York was the simple fact that I'd never called for a taxi before. Here I am, walking in circles in front of the train station, wondering how to flag down a taxi. Every time I raised my hand, another taxi flew past. I eventually had to run up to a taxi stopped at the light and get inside.
Now, taxis are credit card enabled, and the one I got in had a touch screen map/television in the back. The driver referred to me as "boss." This is disorienting. (And I must say, I still cannot get used to some people calling me "Sir" while other people ask "So, are you in high school or college?")
The hotel was nothing special, but I found myself unable to sleep due to nervousness. Tossing and turning all night long, wondering what the next day would be like.
I'm going to refrain from giving too many details about the actual work. It's enough to say that I'm consulting right now. However, the taxi ride to the office the first morning was amazing. Never seen that many near misses in a ten minute cab ride since I went to Taiwan, and cars has roughly six inches to one foot of space between them.
There are a lot of buildings that I pass, and it's kind of ridiculous how many of them call themselves "the best." This is clearly untrue, as every sandwich shop cannot be the best, unless each is equally good (or bad).
Friday, December 21, 2007. 7:54 P.M. Train from Penn Station, en route to Union Station. Dark, unnaturally lighted with the faint glow of the track fluorescence.
Privilege brings distance. The higher the echelon you ascend, the fewer people around you. Look at The Right Stuff by Tom Wolfe, wherein their single combat champions had ascended to heights few had ever known, few would know.
That is one of the reasons why the T.S. corporate headquarters is (perceived as) much more distant, much less cool than the T.S. N.Y. office. I had the opportunity to work from their office this afternoon. It is barely half the size of the T.S. corporate headquarters. They stuff four people into an office that I considered cramped when I saw two people within in the Annandale office. You can cross from one side of the office to the other in a few seconds, and you'll have to pass several cubicles in the middle. Makes it incredibly easy to start up conversation with your coworkers, because going anywhere in the office brings you close to them, by necessity.
Contrast this with the Annandale office, where many people have their own office, and those few that do not at least share an office space. Only our receptionist is accessible to all, and there are even two entry/exit doors to the office. It would be theoretically possible for me to come in to work, do my work, and leave, without being seen by another human.
Another issue is that the Annandale office seems always to be in transit. There, and everywhere, but never here. We are flung much further than our New York counterparts, often within subway distance of the office, and often working on New York projects as far as I can tell.
We're lucky enough to have our own offices, most of us, and because of that, we're lucky enough to be able to get away from each other, to do work without interruption if we so choose.
***
On Thursday night, at a steakhouse, both C.L. and T.K. pinched my cheek, within seconds of each other. I mean, damn. This is supposed to be a professional situation. They're my superiors. And they pinched my cheeks. What do I look like, I'm five? Wait, don't answer that.
***
Working in New York for a few days, (and N.H.'s and J.L.'s words) have shown me that I never quite worked out this wanderlust. When I return to VA, it's going to seem a dump (because it is a dump?). Not that I really did that much in New York, but it was just different. Different is neither inherently bad nor good, it just is different. And, I suppose that if I were able to meet more people, I wouldn't mind so much this life, but it's the same old rut over and over. Not that I'm knocking any of you, just that while a lot of you aren't hindering my goals, it's not exactly helping them either.
Maybe New York isn't the answer. Probably, New York isn't the answer. Then again, what is? Anything but D.C. If I could figure out a way to pay off all my loans, I'd pack up and move, right fucking now. Would I miss you all? Sure. Would it be that bad? No.
***
One of the client administrators spoke with a Russian accent, so I had to add in my mind "Moose and Squirrel" after everything she said, a pale imitation of Natasha from Rocky and Bullwinkle.
***
I met a lot of people in New York. Hopefully I'll be able to match some faces to some names. For better or for worse, a lot of them knew me through Google Talk as the guy with the constant away messages speaking of T.S.
I also had a chance to try to dissuade F.R.'s girlfriend from continuing on in law school. That half a beer really helped my case, I think. At the very least, it stripped me of balance and dignity, really my two biggest barriers towards meeting people (No, really. "I'm sorry for falling on you. By the way, I'm K.T.").
***
Running was so stop-and-go, much like this post. I'd go out ten or fifteen blocks, figure I was running out of time in the morning, then go running back. Ever seen those people jogging in place at intersections, waiting for the traffic to change, looking for all the world like flipping idiots? You may now count me among their number. Hell, I may be their king, for all I know.
***
It turns out if you leave your change on the counter in a hotel, it is taken as a gratuity. This bugged me the first night, when I lost all my change. I love change, unlike most people. Still, I guessed that I'd leave it as the gratuity when I was done anyways, so I just ended up emptying my pockets every night, leaving it there. Still sucked.
***
So I managed to make myself look like a complete idiot every time I walked through New York, staring up at the gigantic buildings like a complete fool. Yay, buildings. Now, I'm just a simple backwater country lawyer, but…
***
There was no free internet at the hotel, so the only time for most of the week I had an internet connection was through the client site. While at the client site, most of the time I was working on client hardware. Thus, my work week was almost like a mini vacation from my life, as I did not really respond to anyone's emails, did not keep up with the happenstances in the world at large, didn't waste hours upon hours browsing the intarwebs.
It was actually really nice. I spent a lot of my free time reading A Game of Thrones by George R.R. Martin. Such an epic scope, but at the same time, he focuses so well on a few characters that you feel immersed in it.
Living in that hotel room made me realize I have far too much stuff right now, and if I planned right, I really could get away with having very little. Since I'm moving (of necessity) fairly soon, this should be my goal, to get rid of everything nonessential, that I need not have to take it with me.
***
It's odd, I know the work when I go back will be absolutely horrific, but… I can't wait.