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April 24, 2017

4:45 p.m. PDT - Cigar Store Indians

4:45 p.m.

Monday is the worst day of the week. But, not like the way most people whine about a Monday....not because the weekend is over and you've got to wander back down the hill into a dull, hopeless life of indentured servitude. It's much worse than that.

Monday afternoon at 5:00 p.m., your body suddenly reminds you that you woke up in a different time zone. That you're living out of a suitcase. That you're getting old and your energy and memories...your body en totale, is fading with ages. Drifting away as the young kids sneak in, sharp and thin. Quick and bright.

Now, there's a teleconference, and I'm sitting on the 6th floor of some twenty story high-rise on Wilshire Boulevard.

We're very close to Hollywood, Westwood. Not far from Beverly Hills. The Beverly Hilton is right down the street. We can look east, out the windows, and see Century City and, behind the Century City, Los Angeles proper.

But I dunno why I'm here. I dunno why we do these things. Why we migrate every week to the left coast in SouthWest planes that carry 137, 143, or 175 passengers. I dunno why we do these things.

Like, we all get up and migrate to the Los Angeles basin every week. Everyone puts their lives on hold to come out here for a few thin days and pour their hearts into their keyboards. This is what we do. Like cows, coming in to feed at the end of the day when the dinner bell sounds.

Like...I can't really tell you what it's like, but keeping a KTM in a different time zone at the airport is so insanely fun there aren't words. Like....I'm flying into LAX, Terminal 1, and slowly I'm learning the airport. Slowly, I'm figuring this place out. Figuring out how to get out of the airport.

And like...you're really walking on a tight rope doing this trick. You have to show up in a different time zone with a lot of things....if anything is missing, you're so hosed their aren't words. You need to show up with the following: Riding gear (Helmet, jacket, pants, gloves), motorcycle keys, house keys (in Riverside/Ontario), passport, cash, wallet, credit cards, cell phone. laptop, chargers, cameras, gopro, garmin GPS, chargers, USB cables, clothes, car keys, etc. And, if you don't have a single one of these things, you're so hosed you're like a fish out of water.

And somehow, you're supposed to collect all of these things with an alarm going off at 3:30 in the morning.

And now, I'm walking out of the LAX airport, and I try to remember where I parked my bike...like...this is one of the most stressful parts of the trip. Is the bike here? Do I remember where I left it? Is it where I left it?

And, always, when I see my bike...you just can't know the release. Like....Lord God. It's there. Now, I put on all of my riding gear, and program my GPS to take me into the office on Wilshire Blvd.

Now, I take the CA-1 North from LAX, and eventually make my way over to the 405. Los Angeles is a great city, but it has the worst traffic I've ever driven in. Now, the traffic is stopped on the 405, and I'm rolling North on the 405, lane-splitting. They just made it legal....like full-on officially legal within the last year.

And the cars are stopped on the interstate. As in parked. I'm lane-splitting, going between them....feels like I'm going 100 mph. I look down....I'm going 33 mph. This cannot last. I will die riding like this. This cannot go on. Somehow, I make it to work. It takes me about 30 minutes to go 8 miles. I get into the office.

I go up to the 6th floor...it's like Russian Roulette. I just pick a floor. My options are 5th, 6th, 8th, and 11th? But the 6th floor works. I'm the first one here. I put down all of my things and just start plugging in everything I have because, why not really. I'm charging the Go Pro Hero 4 black edition, Garmin Montana 600, iphone 6S, and the MacBook Air. So, just swinging for the fences.

I put all of my cameras out on the desk. Like..."attentionwhore.com"

Then, I start trying to do some work. And, this is where the cookie crumbles....like...getting up, flying across the country, riding a KTM through rush hour traffic....that's all just an adrenaline rush...like surfing in a volcano.

But now, I'm at work, and now...it's not really lion taming any more. Now, I'm just a computer guy. Like...why did I choose this for a profession? What was I thinking?

Now, we're all just collapsing around the conference room table, too many souls pushed into a room...just exhausted and stalin...like Cigar Store Indians.

Posted by Rob Kiser on April 24, 2017 at 6:35 PM

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Posted by: anonymous on April 26, 2017 at 1:59 AM

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