The Departure Terminal

A few months ago I took my show on the road. It is not much of a show to be honest, like a one man band playing a haunting and familiar melody on a worn down fiddle with a hat full of coins and crumpled currency at his feat.

I set out to embark on a grand adventure, my charts and maps laid out before me, teasing my destination out with my fingertip that moved coarsely across the flat tattered paper map of Europe. My finger skimmed over boarders and boundaries of established societies with remarkable ease.

My traveling cases were crammed with the distillate of my lares and penates. I wore two hats upon my head, quite literally, as I lurched through the international terminal toward the ticketing counter. One hat would serve as a collection vessel for crumpled gratuities, the other as a metaphor for the dying vestige of my materialistic constancy.

“Oh my, you have a tremendous quantity of luggage in tow considering your gender. How long will you be traveling?” inquired a slovenly togged hen.

“Indefinitely,” I uttered beneath the strain of my burden.

I approached the ticketing agent.

“Mister Taylor, it appears that one of your bags exceed the weight limit.”

“That’s fine, I’ll pay more.”

“I am afraid that is impossible, the weight limit is set by the union, it cannot be exceeded.” She said it as if the union had inconvenienced her greatly in the past. “You will have to move some items to another suitcase.”

“I don’t exactly have another suitcase with me, maybe you have a box I could use?”

“Hmmm, I don’t think that we have a….Let me check,” She glanced over her right shoulder, “No. No box here. If you just go over there,” pointing with a crooked finger to indicate a turn into a corridor, ”you will find a luggage store.”

I stepped away from the counter with my offending baggage and briefly considered purchasing another suitcase and paying the fee for extra luggage. Then, understanding the stupidity of that solution, I hastily tugged the beastly green suitcase to a nearby garbage can and unzipped the compartment. I needed to reduce the load by only 3 kilos. I grabbed my sketchbooks and media folder and crammed them into my carry on bag so it was cumbersome and overflowing. Then I took out two large winter coats and put them on, one over the other, which likely matched the absurdity of my two hats in the balmy Los Angeles weather. Without making use of the garbage can I had succeeded in conforming to the union requirements.

I boarded my flight to Dublin and immediately filled the overhead bin above my seat with coats and hats. I laid back in my chair and dreamt of my future on the other side.


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