Friday, May 26, 2017
Today I'm on the road back home for the first
time in four months. Traveling to Lewistown
Montana is circuitous at best. Requiring one
leave at the crack of dawn only to arrive at
your destination around dusk. I don't mind
connecting between flights. Nor do I dislike
the awe-inspiring drive from Billings home.
Much of my life is spent between here and
there. And many of my blogs are written in
airport terminals. Hence I'm the inveterate
frequent traveler. Thus while I don't relish a
life spent in transit - I've NO choice except
to go where and when I'm told to.
Easy does it?
Living in Manhattan proves that proximity
doesn't mean ease of conveyance. Hopping
into a cab or Uber doesn't guarantee a quick
trip. It can take a half an hour to travel less
than a mile depending on where you're going.
Catching a bus is no better. Especially as the
chances of getting a seat are limited. Theres
always the subway. However depending on
where you are it could be a trek to the nearest
stop. All of the above and more are just a few
of the reasons why New Yorkers walk. One's
feet are the only mode of transportation that
you can rely on. And often... the FASTEST.
Believe it or not, traveling thousands of miles
to the middle of no where just may be more
predictable than shorter jaunts. On Tuesday
I was scheduled to fly one hour to Pittsburgh.
The distance between West Fifty Eighth to
Laguardia Airport is only six point two miles.
However construction at LaGuardia airport is
causing huge delays. Therefore I left home
over two hours before my flight only to get
a text shortly after we crossed the Harlem
River into Queens. My plane was departing
THREE HOURS LATE. Then all traffic was
stopped as the exit to LaGuardia was closed.
Given I travel on a bi-weekly basis I should be
used to delays. However I consider sitting at the
gate the equivalent as being placed in purgatory.
My time is precious. At least to me. However
it's more than obvious that those who we pay
to convey us don't agree. And something tells
me they're as miserable as we are. Or... maybe
not. Yesterday I had a lovely laugh with the lady
who checked me in. She shared that it now takes
thirty minutes to get from employee parking to
the terminal. A distance of less than half a mile.
Therefore I'm not alone. Misery loves company.
And we innocent bystanders travel in packs...
Upon finally boarding my flight, I was greeted
by a smiling flight attendant. Like any victim
of post traumatic stress syndrome, I was done.
So I said "How do you do it?!" Her response?
"You gotta go with the flow." She then shared
that from her perspective it's out of our control.
We can't allow it to consume us. And once more
I'm reminded that wisdom often flows out of the
mouth of babes. Thus said sage reminded me
that any attempt to alter the natural tsunami of
events is futile at best. Hence I still embrace our
former first lady's advice. Whenever I fly I must
"go high" and rise above my circumstances.
Many of us spend our lives speeding to the next
destination. Only to discover that upon arrival -
we've still got far to go. Something tells me that
the majority of life's detours are purposeful acts
of God. Therefor such delays are key elements
in our development. Not only do they teach us
patience - they insure that we pause and reflect.
Therefore even if it takes longer to get where
we're going, a hiatus invariably insures that we
end up in a better place. So why is it so hard to
embrace happenstance? Fighting forces beyond
our control is futile at best. Instead we all must
savor whatever comes our way. Enjoy the ride!