The interesting thing about the travel requirements on this project is going through with them. As I sit on my parents couch in Blooming Prairie, MN at 5:50 am CT, watching repeated chick flicks, (sorry folks, this is all that is on TV right now), I can’t help but think that this is the perfect time to blog. Knowing of the delirium that consumes me right now, brace yourself for a whirlwind of comments.
I asked a group of my friends this the other day, “What’s your airplane?” For those of you that aren’t down with pop culture, or hip hop music to be exact, B.O.B performs a tune titled Airplanes. The chorus opens the song with this line:
Can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shooting stars? I can really use a wish right now.
At first I was pretty naïve, material in fact at the concept of what I would wish for, but as this idea of looking up at the stars and wishing/hoping for an event to happen lingers on, I abruptly halt materialistic fantasies (wealth, cars, jobs-consider this material) and shift focus. What lies on the end of the street, just after the skid marks of my own vision, is passion; No, not that kind of passion.
The truth of the matter is that my airplane, my wish, my passion is to help people; I love teaching, coaching, and pray that I continue to be placed in positions where these talents are maximized. Sitting on the plane the other day next to an entrepreneur who recently sold his company, the audacity of this gentleman shocked me into a startling realization. At first the discussion (more of a presentation if you ask me) seemed to fit the mold of basic natter, but abruptly shifted to unexpectedly relatable topics. The man said that after he sold his company, a piece of himself left, and now as he was getting paid to assist in the transition, he felt like a whore. I didn’t know how to respond. Other people around me did; they put on their headphones.
Avoiding diving into “Life Lessons with Kraig 101,” I found this interesting and will simply leave it at that, cutting off the potential pages of reflection.
So…How? Why? What on earth am I doing typing this early in the morning? Why am I not in Hawaii?
I was fired.
JUST KIDDING.
Once a month for the next three months I have training in Chicago. Here was the flight schedule:
1. Depart Hawaii at 10:30pm HST (3:30am CST)
2. Connect in San Francisco, CA and depart at 8:30am PST (11:30am CST)
3. Arrive in Minneapolis, MN at 2:20 PM CST
4. Drive to home in New Brighton and stay there until 5:00PM
5. Return to Airport and have conference call.
6. Depart Minneapolis at 7:45 PM CST
7. Arrive in Chicago at 9:00PM
8. Training Friday morning.
9. Depart Chicago at 3:30PM CST
10. Arrive in Minneapolis at 5PM CST
11. Depart Minnesota at 11:45am CST on Monday
With this instability, my clock, time zone, whatever you want to call it, has absolutely no idea what is happening. Since Wednesday at 10am CST (5am HST when I woke up), total sleep time is 16 hrs.
It’s Sunday.
Whoa, end of The Notebook, sad.
At 6:15am CST (1:15am HST), I am going to force myself to take a nap. After all, I tee off with Chris Stenzel and the Princess (Dave Albrecht) at 8:30am in Byron. Watch out world.
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