First Work Trip

Written This Morning
I recall the last time I sat mere feet from where I’m currently resting, ankles crossed and feet tucked neatly beneath my chair. The creaks and hums of the escalator are familiar and, given that this hotel was booked, I walked directly here from where I’ll stay tonight (and where my car parks now) without even a moment’s worry that I might get lost.

There’s something lovely and painful about rising very early to prepare, then tucking myself into a car and speeding toward my destination. The meetings begin early this morning and, given construction and traffic, I didn’t want my arrival to be belated. So I grumbled a little bit as I brushed my teeth and curled my hair. I finished throwing items in my laptop bag and overnight case. Then I moved down the stairs of the hotel toward my car, taking a bit of pleasure in the way my skirt fluttered about my knees.

I wore this outfit when I met Jon, I remembered, and felt sad for a moment. I’m still confused. I like him, but I see a number of barriers between who we both are and any romantic relationship. Differences are interesting, but when we seem to look at life in ways that seem opposing, that’s a problem. And it wouldn’t be for friendship – I can enjoy and appreciate all sorts of different quirks and qualities in people – and I’m sure I’ll come to adore Jon as I know him more – but I don’t think I’ll get to keep him. And it’s growing tiresome to meet wonderful men and realize they’d likely be happier with someone else.

I almost invited him on my weekend trip. I have a beautiful hotel room I won’t use but for sleeping. All the vacancies were doubles. I do love this city and certainly wouldn’t begrudge anyone a free adventure downtown. But it’s too soon. And I don’t know. Given that I will be working and likely tired, and that we’ve only met once and he has to work today, it seemed wiser to keep that idea to myself. But I’ve wondered if – as we see each other more – the desire to be with someone separates neatly from this spark of wanting to be with this someone.

I think it’s part of why I’m dazzled by cities. The sheer magnitude of people living and working and loving and breathing the same air here – being stacked vertically because going horizontal requires too much physical separation. And everyone needs to be here – near where the lights are brightest. The skyline sparkled in the pre-dawn light as I finished a trip that was a bit longer than I expected. But it felt good to return, to see familiar sites and remember that I had to turn left from the middle lane to be able to U turn into the valet parking of this particular hotel.

I keep glancing away from the screen, watching the lobby begin to awaken. There are laptops opening and a spare student or two with poster tubes. As for me, my purpose is the same as the last time I was here. I’ll listen and learn. But this time, my focus is on a topic that’s new to me. Now that the academics are beginning to ride the creaky, humming escalator, I glance up at them and smile. I don’t put the letters at the end of my name anymore, though I’ll trot the P, H and D out if people are condescending. But I remain (redundantly, I know) relieved to not be one of them right now.

Finished This Evening
My meeting ended several hours before I expected and I found myself with a guiltlessly free afternoon. I flipped open my phone to call a friend who lives here with a thought that I’d see if she wanted to meet for dinner. But then I tried to remember the last time I spent time alone. It was suddenly hugely appealing – the thought of wandering and shopping and maybe visiting a museum. So I changed clothes and looked out from my beautifully lavish hotel room on the fourteenth floor.

There were people everywhere – crossing the street or congregating on corners. Carrying shopping bags and shuffling along in flip flops or prancing in smart suits and elegant purses. I stood there for a moment, peeking between the sheer drapes and looking down on the busy streets. I smiled, tied my shoes and tucked my purse under my arm. I did some shopping, crossed some streets and waited on corners for the lights to change. Joining a crowd between two lion statues, I walked through doors without paying admission and walked slowly through galleries, pausing to read placards and admire paintings, to peer through glass at china or bend to examine furniture.

I selected two prints to place in my new dining room. I walked back to my room, tossing my hair back when I crossed the river, stopping momentarily to buy some water in the park. And now I’m back in my room, pleasantly tired and ready to take a bath in the room with the marble counters and ultra-soft towels. As far as trips go? No complaints about this first one.