I Left My Heart...

As it neared midnight (Pacific), I wearily continued to tap the keys of my laptop as I tried to find a comfortable position in my seat at the gate while I waited for my red eye flight to board.

"Too much information," I muttered, which might have earned me some concerned looks from the Californians had I not already decided to lie down on the row of seats to rest a bit earlier. So while talking to myself out loud may have been ill advised, the thought was valid. When one works for three days straight - having back to back to back meetings - and waits until the end of the trip to deal with reporting the findings, the process becomes exhausting and cumbersome. So, first, I missed you dearly - I want to say, "Let's never be apart again!" but work trips are not good places for blog posts. So know that when I'm away, I'm taking pictures and thinking of snippets of stories to share.

Sunday - Hello, Pacific!
I woke early, walked the dog, drove to the airport, flew across the country (1 stop), caught a shuttle to the hotel and ended as I began - on foot. After checking in and dropping my bags, I secured the knots on my shoes and decided to wander along the beach.

Frankly, I missed my Chienne. She did very well with her sitter, but I'm not used to walking alone anymore. Still, I admired the water near the airport, smiled at people who were jogging and biking and took a few photos. But, I decided with what must have been relief, it's not home. I made the right call in returning to the Midwest rather than departing for the west coast. It's beautiful, I thought, taking in the water and paths and mountains in the distance, but foreign. So even as I rested in preparation for the coming days, I was already a little homesick.

Monday - Look at me!
"I'm sorry," I offered, stepping back when a flight attendant approached where I was standing on the curb. I had taken the hotel shuttle back to the airport to make my way toward another hotel nearby where my colleagues were staying. Several of us were departing one shuttle and I attempted to stay out of the way while several members of the United crew gathered their luggage.

"I was going to tell you that you were very pretty," the uniformed man said as cars streamed past on both sides of the median where we stood. I blinked at him in surprise and looked quizzical, sure I heard him wrong. "That color," he indicated my purple cardigan, "is perfect on you with your dark hair and eyes and your fair skin."

I ducked my head modestly and reached to touch his arm, telling him that was so very kind of him to say. I felt all warm and happy the rest of the morning and was shocked at how much a simple compliment affected my sense of well being. I hope many wonderful things happen to that man - I now love him very much.

Less flattering was a moment in a coffee shop where a colleague told me I had "something on your...um...back." I frowned at him and said I'd go check it, wondering with some chagrin if a pair of pantyhose was stuck to the leg of my pants. I excused myself from the table we shared while we waited for our first meeting to begin - I'd ridden with two men in their late 30s/early 40s - and walked toward the restroom. After much twisting and squinting, I saw a small sticker on my bottom. The hem of my sweater (which looked perfect on me, by the way) almost covered it, but there was a glimpse of black on my charcoal pants on the curve of my bottom. I removed it and tossed the offensive item in the trash, wondering where it had come from. More disturbing was that my colleagues were examining my ass closely enough to see it though. There's no need for that.

"I saw you earlier," one woman said when our small group was given a brief tour. I smiled at two women who were standing in an equipment room and the older one recognized me.

"Today?" I asked, confused that I didn't remember meeting her.

"At the coffee shop this morning," she confirmed and I replied with an "oh, of course," though I didn't remember seeing her. I almost asked her what made me memorable in the small, crowded space - my gorgeous sweater or the tiny sticker on my tushie. Perhaps, I thought later, it's that I consistently make eye contact and smile at people. It's a habit that fails to register - if my gaze meets that of another, my lips curve without any real thought behind it. But the day left me feeling like people did see me. I think in most instances that's good.

Tuesday - More wine, please.
"I don't mean to flatter Katie too much," a young scientist said as we had a late dinner with our respective bosses, "but I thought she did a wonderful job. She came across as smart and thoughtful, but very open to suggestions and complaints. I think the important people here really embraced her attitude."

Adam nodded and said he was also very pleased with how I'd done. I ducked my head again and thanked them both, grinning when Sue's boss nodded his agreement on how cool I am. "I was actually very pleased with what I presented - I think it's a strong plan and am certainly willing to tweak it." Given that some members of the team seemed to offend our collaborators - unintentionally, I'm sure - I was pleased at my understanding of academics to smooth some of the awkwardness (or just blatantly take their sides when it became appropriate).

But the day had been long, as had the previous one. Adam and I sat shoulder to shoulder, having drinks while we worked on my presentation. I enjoyed the time in the bar - giggling at his jokes, rolling my eyes when he teased me and making progress on editing my vision of this particular project. It was casual and fun, though quite productive, and we eventually moved to the dining room for dinner.

"White or red?" he asked, examining the wine list. I quickly responded that I preferred the former, much to his dramatically exasperated response.

I rolled my eyes at him and said the glass I'd had already was likely sufficient for the evening. But I could have a glass of red if he got a bottle. We ended up ordering wine flights - white for me, red for him - and I made my way through the small glasses more quickly than I realized, finding them pleasantly crisp and fruity. I firmly declined his offer of a nightcap, realizing I was getting a bit too flirtatious, even for my comfort level.

We started with prosecco on Tuesday night, the long day of meetings finally over. We then shared a bottle of wine (white, as per my preference), and port after we finished our meals and decided on desserts. But before I began stumbling around the city in my strappy sandals, I frowned when my fork clattered to the floor of the tiny restaurant. I had just started my salad - a delightful blend of endive and arugala, apples, walnuts and gorgonzola. I waited patiently for the waitress to make her way back to us - while the place was small, it was very busy. Adam finished his own salad and moved to hand me his fork.

"Really?" I asked, surprised. "You don't mind?" he shook his head, seemingly surprised that I'd ask and I happily took his utensil and finished my salad. He got a new fork with his meal, the four of us laughed and drank and ate and we made our way back to the hotel quite late that night. At first I was concerned - it's a drastic shift in dynamic from what I experienced as a student or post-doc. But it seems like a way of interaction we embrace in my sector of industry and I rather enjoy my colleagues. So it seems like all will be well - it just continues to strike me as a little odd for some reason.

Wednesday - Reaching My Limit.
After the 9th hour and 6th meeting yesterday, I shook my head and tucked my notebook in my bag. "I can do no more," I said and hugged my west coast co-workers good-bye and set off to explore downtown. I was told to take the Muni and, charmed by its cute little nickname, I made my way toward the stop. I got off too early, looked at the map more carefully, and got on a far more crowded car several moments later. I disembarked at Embarcadero, made my way out from underground and wandered a bit. Deciding I was exhausted and didn't really know what I wanted to see, I decided to catch the Bart toward the airport. Upon finally reaching it, I caught the airport tram to the proper terminal, got my hotel shuttle to go fetch my suitcase, returned on the shuttle, checked in and spent a few hours at the gate doing work. I'd elaborate further, but the haze of exhaustion prevented me from recalling a great deal. Good thing I took notes!

While I remain quite tired, it's good to be home. I will now return to catching up with my feed readers to see what I've missed.