So how do I begin to sum up the adventures of last week? Unlike how I usually manage to find so-called adventures in seemingly inconsequential, banal events and occurrences, I actually traveled to another country, met a lot of new people and saw some interesting sights, by anyone’s standards.
Last Monday morning I went to work with the intension of leaving around lunchtime. When I had left work the previous Friday, our trip was still up in the air – which is to say that it wasn’t 100% for certain that we would be able to go. Our country clearance hadn’t been submitted within the requisite 3 business days. We (although the “me” part of “we” had nothing to do with the arrangements, I was merely along for the ride; I am not exactly sure who the “we” was…) so, we had submitted the clearance request on Thursday, but it was well after close of business in the place where we were going. So, really, it was a matter of misunderstanding that Friday, Monday and Tuesday counted as 3 business days since the conference was to begin on Wednesday. We were to arrive in the country on Tuesday morning. I tell you, this was the way to do it. We left Monday night, arrived Tuesday morning and the conference was all day Wednesday, they took us out to dinner that night and had some business to do on Thursday morning, and we didn’t fly out again until Friday morning to arrive back home by Friday afternoon, just in time for a 3 day weekend. Boon-DOG-GLE!
I traveled there with Mojo and another Air Force Colonel, we’ll call him Special Ross (since he is a Special Ops pilot and he never told me his call sign). They didn’t care too much where we went, just that we found something to do to fill the time. Me, I hadn’t been to London in over 12 years and had a few specific and many general things that I wanted to accomplish. The illustrious Dr. Johnson, my father’s idol, said “when a man is tired of London, then he is tired of life.”
We spent Tuesday wandering the streets, tracking down little haunts and generally listening to me prattle on about this bit of history, that bit of literature, and other such random snippets about British life and times. After awhile, before they would ask me a question about some place or some building, they would say, “now for $2000, what is…” as though I were the most winningest game show contestant ever.
In Hyde Park in London there is a place called Speaker’s Corner. It is basically a non-descript patch of sidewalk where anyone can put down a milk crate (or a soap box), stand on it, and pontificate about whatever their little heart desires. If the speaker is good or interesting , a crowd will gather, if not, obviously, s/he is ignored or, perhaps, replaced by a louder, more interesting orator. I remember going there to check it out the first time I went to London and being a little disappointed. Not that I was expecting to hear Daniel Webster or some other stentorian spokesman, but the only voice that stood out above the hopeful, wandering masses of people listening was a man who declared that “A MAN’S PENIS IS HIS COMPASS! HE FOLLOWS IT WHEREVER HE GOES…” I looked at my friends, raised my eyebrows, and we knowingly walked away. So there you have it: Speaker’s Corner. I am sure that there are really worthwhile speeches that transpire there, but I had heard enough. I was on to other things, so see where my inner compass would lead me, if you will.
I always imagined that a big city park such as Hyde Park or Central Park would be an excellent place for a Humbler’s Corner. That’s right: Humbler’s Corner. A person (maybe me) could sit there in a little booth like Lucy Van Pelt. The booth would have a little sign at the top reading “Humbling, $1” or “Humbling, free to those who need it.” And there the Humbler would dispense not necessarily insults – insult is too strong a word – but just a few pity phrases or observances to knock arrogant people back down to the same plane as the rest of us. This ambition for a vocation like this may be a surprise to those who are aware that one of my four rules is “never pass up the opportunity to give someone a compliment.” Really, I am not about putting people down, just enabling them to realize what a value there is in realizing that they don’t posses all there is to offer to the world. It is kind of like arrogance busting. Everyone has to suck at something I (I suck at driving backwards and doing math in public). Otherwise, we could get too full of ourselves and risk losing empathy for our fellow human. It is my philosophy that one should be a human being nice, not a human being mean. When I least expect it, life’s great level moments – let us call them “humblings” – happen to me. I realize that some normally successful people are not so fortunate that happenstance happens to slap them in the face from time to time. I am not talking about big disappointments like failing a test or screwing up a relationship or being unable to connect with your best friend… I am talking about little crumblings of circumstance that make you realize that you too can seem like a complete idiot. Crumblings of humblings… that has a nice sound.
So there I was, the last morning I was in London, in the shower. Normally I love bathing like a pig loves mud. When I was a kid I distinctly remember drawing a bath with the hottest possible water. Then I would inch my way in, one toe at a time, put a whole foot in, then both feet, then stand there until I could stand to sit down, then I would methodically stretch my legs out until my knee caps were immersed, then I would work on laying down to wet my back then eventually the rest of my body from head to toe. I’d wash up, then stay in there until the water turned cold, my toes and fingers looking like prunes. Then I would drain the water out of the tub and soap the tub up really good until it was as slippery as a vasoline covered watermelon. I’d position myself at the foot of the tub (opposite the faucet) and slip and slide until I could no longer take the bruising and banging or until someone came knocking on the bathroom door, inquiring about the cacaughoney. Man, I have always loved bathing...
So, that morning was the fourth time I had used the shower in this hotel. Typically hotel showers have very poor water pressure. Not this place! Holy crap, the first time I turned the shower on, it pretty much hurt. My head loved it and my back could take it, but in order to get my front clean I had to hold my arms in front of my chest and do a quick little turn around sprinkler splashy maneuver. It made a wantonly magical, relaxing wondrous time a bit uncomfortable. I mean it wasn’t unbearable, it was merely a matter of introducing displeasure into my usual daily slice of heaven. Friday morning, towards the end of my shower, while being positively pelted with bullets of man-made rain, I somehow developed sense enough to turn the knob just a little clockwise (or less counterclockwise); that is, I turned the pressure down. Oh… I am an idiot. You see, ladies and gentlemen, I said to the audience in my head, I too am an idiot. And then I just continued to stand there, staring at my feet, making slow-motion pirouettes, realizing my entire body could receive the water pain-free, unafraid… dumbfounded. For I, had found dumb. Dumb was me.
So, I would like to be a Humbler, to set up my shingle in Humbler’s Corner in Central Park. I would like to be able to give others who aren’t so fortunate to have epiphanies of their own idiocy, people who think too little about their own failings such that they think that it is okay to patronize others. I believe that over the course of my life, I have amassed a lot of such ridiculous revelations … and if someone happens to stop by my booth and put me in my place, then good on them, good for me, good for us all. I have to suck at something sometimes too.
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