Oh, I'm Sorry...

This has been a damned short weekend, and I’m spending most of the rest of it getting ready to travel on business.  I hate the whole concept of traveling on business, much less the term “traveling on business”.  The implication is that I’ve somehow grown up and become one of those guys carrying a lap top case stuffed with too much crap as they shuffle down the center aisle toward a seat in Coach.

I used to travel on orders.  “On orders” made it clear that I didn’t have a choice about my travel: I was ordered to shuffle down this aircraft aisle and settle into my Coach-class seat.  I could delude myself with the thought, It’s all part of the sacrifice I’m making for the rest of you. As if that made flying in Seat 44F somehow noble.  I have friends in Falujah, making their sacrifices, and I’m here on Delta making mine.  

But now, I seem to have grown up, and I’m one of those guys with the laptop and the ass-too-wide-for-a-Coach-class seat.  My legs have always been too long for Coach, and now the discomfort extends to my hips.

Not that I had any choice about this travel, either.  My military boss felt I should go, so I go.  He’s going, too, so I can’t even complain, really.  

Last week was one of those when things just backed up and didn’t get done.  The holiday on Monday screwed it all up, and even with the short week, I managed to put in an extra day and a half of work.  

And I still left things undone.  When I left at 3 on Saturday afternoon.  

There’s an edge to this post I really didn’t intend.  I’m choosing to be unapologetic; I am tired and my back is tight and I will spend my day traveling tomorrow, beginning at 4:30 am.

Aside from all the hours I worked last week, it was a great week.  It was as though the Blue Fairy came through the window and tapped my work with her wand.  Bing!  I can see things becoming meaningful again.  

I know others also often feel as though their efforts go unnoticed, unacknowledged, unrewarded, unheeded.  We seem to have lost the ability to take pride in our own knowledge that we’ve done our best, and continually seek the recognition of others.  We want the glory we see given to others on television or in the media, even if it is on a small scale.  

You see it in the popularity of “reality” television.  It occurred to me just now that the reason so many people love those shows is that the protagonists are no different from the people watching the shows.  They want something better than the job they have, they’re not always perfectly articulate, they face situations they don’t like without unshakable calm, they have bad habits and blemishes and embarrassing secrets.  (Sort of the same things that explained Rosie O’Donnell’s popularity.)  And they are angry.  Watchably angry.

People watch because of one thought: That could be me.  And people do watch.  And they learn.

They learn that it’s okay to be angry and aggressively defensive.  

Now, there are myriad other places where we learn that behavior, so please don’t take me for one of those folks who thumps a Bible and focuses indignation on whatever happens to strike me as the Source of Society’s Decay today.  I’m just saying that those shows work because they appeal to the desire we all have to be part of something, before they turn it around and make it something no one can look away from, like a multi-car pileup or a child in a wheelchair.  

Anger is everywhere these days.  (Even in this post.)  A guy drives a car through the glass front of a restaurant.  A woman drives for miles against traffic on the freeway and finally sits ranting in her car for hours.  Another guy walks into a fast-food restaurant and shoots two dozen people.  

Where does that come from?  

When I was learning to drive, my dad taught me that if you came up behind significantly slower traffic on the freeway, you flashed your lights a couple times as a way of requesting a clear lane.  These days, that’s a good way to provoke a psychotic game of bumper tag.  (Tailgating is apparently considered acceptably less aggressive, but not by me.)

Toot your horn at someone who has just narrowly missed causing an accident, and you’re going to get the Bird at a minimum, and more if you happen to be going the same direction.  

Even while walking, people are inclined to step into your path without regard for the consequences, and then bluster at the person they cut off.  Shopping carts will only stop if they’re blocking the aisle.  (Go to any Wal-Mart or Target and you’ll see what I mean.)  Now that I think about it, strollers work the same way, especially the expensive ones.

It all adds up.  I used to be considered a very patient man, but even I spend most of my time with a good head of steam going, and one of these days, I’m going to treat some idiot who rolls his suitcase over my foot to a verbal explosion:

WHY THE FUCK DON’T YOU LOOK WHERE YOU’RE GOING?

But, then, I’d only be contributing to the problem.

It’s a nice fantasy, though, and if you happen to see me in the airport tomorrow, wearing a smile on my face, you’ll know exactly what I’m thinking.

A couple of generations ago, people dealt with disappointment and criticism better.  They accepted the blame when they were at fault, and sometimes when they weren’t.  They responded politely.  It’s a lost art, accepting responsibility.

Speaking of accepting responsibility, I’m going to take the blame for this meandering post.  Not terribly coherent tonight.

Good night, all.  I gotta go finish packing.