A Final Step Back...

San Francisco, CA USA

April 11, 2008
N 37°48.049
W 122°24.580

Simply said, I can’t sit still for long. This became more apparent the last few weeks as I anxiously waited for job interviews and offer letters. I sat in the coffee shop, tried to write stories, but my clogged brain couldn’t focus on anything except for the task at hand—finding a job. Then, as the prospect of a job started to become a reality, I took off to Las Vegas for the CTIA Convention and now I’m spending my first week of my new job in London.

Being on the road is part of me… no matter how much I miss Marc, I don’t think I can sit behind a desk and punch away at a keyboard every day.

Yes, it is difficult being back in the work environment; yet another step in the re-entry process, maybe the final step. However, since I am spending my first week on the job in London it still feels like I am traveling. As soon as I stepped off the airplane knowing I had to navigate the train station and then the underground, my heart started pumping—I was back in the action. Of course, an obvious piece was missing, Marc who had to stay home at a mundane job of his own.

I popped out of the London underground at Oxford Circus wheeling my small, carry-on suitcase and headed off to find my new office. This is when I realized I didn’t have one of my most trusted traveling devices—my compass. Initially, I headed off the wrong direction before realizing my mistake and backtracking. It felt good to be back in the game.

After my first day in the office, I knew I needed some fresh air to fight off the effects of jet lag. Plus, I had to stay awake until at least 10:00 PM in order to completely adjust to British Daylight Time. I pulled on my running shorts and shoes and headed out to Regents Park, to take in the spring flowers, crisp evening air, and enjoy the company of other runners. As I stopped to look at the tulips in bloom, I reflected on my life over the past few months, and the leisurely hours I spent inside around North Beach and Café Trieste.

Marc told me over and over to document some of the stories of the day… they really were memorable. Of course, not all were grand. Especially when Elvis Christ, the local drunk who is arrested daily for being drunk in public, jumped MoMo, another local favorite. After the incident, MoMo explained to anyone that would listen, he wasn’t taking any more shit and was going to start carrying a butterfly knife to fend off Elvis. I hope this story doesn’t end in a dark alley in North Beach with MoMo in prison and Elvis Christ dead.

Over the past few months I frequented Little City Market and kept Ron and Mike, the local butchers, on their toes. I visited the market before our trip, but not as often since Marc was only occasionally eating meat on the weekends. However, since I have been home and cooking regularly, I visit Ron and Mike a few times a week.

On one visit I was showing off the market to a former colleague, on the next day I rolled in with a stroller while I was babysitting Sadie Jordan. Yet, on another day I walked in with Marc. After shuttling in so many different faces it took me a few more visits to get the story straight with Ron and Mike… no, the baby isn’t mine… that that is a former colleague… and yes, Marc is indeed my husband, but no that wasn’t his baby either.

Saving the best for last, the most memorable story of late was the morning I sat outside Trieste in the crisp air and a young, Norwegian tourist stumbled up looking for his hotel. He never made it home the night before and couldn’t remember how to get to his place. I gave him directions, asked a few questions and he stumbled on his way. I continued sitting there, sipping my coffee, when the guy next to me screamed out, “wow, look at them soar.” I looked up and saw a few pigeons flapping in the air near the church across the street. “They are such beautiful birds, those hawks, there… oh my, they are making love right now” he exclaimed, “sometimes I feel like I relate more to birds than to people.” I looked up again, looking for hawks, but still saw only pigeons and wondered if I am the crazy one. As I peered into the guy’s eyes, it was almost as if I could see his imagination flowing freely, and knew he really believed there were hawks in the air. I was pretty sure some mood enhancing drugs were involved. I have seen bird man a few more times since the initial meeting; he is always very courteous, we have engaged in some interesting conversations about local politics, jobs and the neighborhood in general. I felt he related pretty well to me… and I am not a bird.

Since the end of our trip I have met new people at Trieste, at Little City Meats and had the opportunity to watch a beautiful 15 month old girl, Sadie Jordan. Even though the last two months weren’t relaxing as I was living them, I will look back on the time fondly, especially now that I am back in the game.