confuse

A midlife crisis is a thing not just an excuse for questionable behavior. My own is a little odd which makes it just about perfect for yours truly. I don’t want a sports car or vehicle of any kind. In fact if I had throwaway money I think I would buy a pickup truck and one of those Can Am Spyder reverse tricycle things which would fit nicely into the back of my luxury 5th wheel toy hauler not that I’ve put any thought into it…

Nope, my current conundrum revolves around simplifying my life. Boiling it down to bare essentials and seeking out a little more living. The rut in which I find myself is getting deep and I fear it might become inescapable in just a few short years. What in the hell is a boy to do?

This is brough to you buy a gentleman I met in the United lounge as I traveled home this weekend. We were both flying on a Saturday which is never a treat and then you add in the extra spring break traffic and it equals lots-o-asspain. I had almost five hours of flight time to endure and he was going for a six-hour ride so seats at the bar were in order as to cut down on unnecessary refill steps. We were both more than two hours early for our flights. I tell you all this to explain that we got a lot closer than the average airport alcohol related encounter.

We began with what situations found us traveling alone on the weekend and it ended with me learning he was premier 1K which means he flies a little more than 100,000 miles per year. This is more than double my average so he is essentially a weekly traveler. He is a monster earner (Googled job title at his company) and lives in a huge house (his description) in New Jersey and he hates every aspect of his life.

I spent the majority of our talk trying to find something he might like but he had a salty retort for every point I brought up and I was having conflicting waves of good and bad feelings about the whole situation. It boiled down to the fact that he was great at his job to the detriment of all else. That one hit a little close to home. Plus the more I drank the higher I held the hand mirror of self-reflection and I didn’t like what was coming in to view.

We parted ways with him telling me to get the hell off the road and me advising that he make a list of all the good in his life and carry it around in his wallet for occasions such as these. Aside from getting inside my head and scrambling my eggs this new friend had me rethinking my airport drinking. For every beer I enjoyed he put down a double vodka rocks, three olives on the side. The only reason I noticed is when on a mission of any kind as I was then, I tend to drink at a robust pace. That dude must hate his liver.

So it has been an existential couple of days and I’m getting ready to hit the road once again. I’ve started a rough plan but there are so many variables that I need to get all thoughts on paper first. I am writing this in fact as a way to disconnect my brain for a couple of minutes so I can continue on with that exercise. I am currently overthinking everything right now which is a volitile state of being.

 

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