What You Wish For

The Travel Gods are a funny bunch.  They are as capricious as any Greek God ever thought about being, although the Travel Gods have a much more finely crafted sense of humour.  Fortunately for me, the Travel Gods seem to fond of me in much the same way one is fond of a moronic but cute puppy.  

Case in point.

On Monday I arrived back in the Good Ol' USA, the land of possibility, where any natural-born citizen can become the President.  Anyone.  Even an appallingly coiffed bellicose dogmatist can aspire to, and achieve, the Presidency (provided he or she have the dough-re-mi).  Sorry, was I digressing?

Ahem.  At noon on Monday I arrived back in the USA after fifteen hours in transit.  I received a warm greeting from my Brothers here in Seattle.  With their conversation and camaraderie I managed to stay awake to a more appropriate bedtime, as opposed to falling on my face at 1 PM in the afternoon.   Tuesday was to be my first day back at work, including the commute down to Portland.  Nothing like jumping right back into the fray.

My Pals the Travel Gods had other ideas.  Within minutes of stepping into my office on Tuesday morning, my employer said "We need to talk..."   Having lived a good long time on this Earth and having known a few women in that time, I have a clear grasp on what happens after "We need to talk."  At this point in my life if I hear those words I just respond with "No we don't, Honey" and start packing my gear.  And so it was to be on this day.

Here is a helpful etiquette tip for any of you who continue to toil for  The Man:  If you are sitting in your Boss Man's office and he is laying you off, a Happy-Joy-Joy Booty-Dance is going to ruin his or her day.  I didn't really mean to get all swept up in the moment, but when we got past the "blah-blah-blah economic pressure blah-blah someone has to go blah blah" and suddenly we were on to Severance Package, well, my Booty-Shaker got the best of me.  Employers HATE IT when you are happy to be laid off.  Elation at the prospect of unemployment reverses the entire process for the Downpressor.  It confuses the poor devils.

I spent the rest of the morning making uncomfortable lay-off jokes as I packed my shite and giggled.  "Nothing more awkward than an employee carrying his personal box out of the office" I said over-loudly as I carried my personal box out of my office.   May as well ham it up for the last hour.   A few more "Free at Last, Free at last" quotes and I was out of there.

I wished for more time to travel.  I received exactly what I wished for.  Now I have eight weeks to pack up and rent my house, secure my Austrian visa and get my butt back to Vienna where I belong.

My days packing other people's loads in the Salt Mines have come to an end.  My days of referring to myself as a Freelance Writer are just beginning.  The level of pretense that comes with saying "I'm a freelance writer" is astounding.   Well, this ought to be fun.  

Nest up:  Fun with Visa Folks and A Very Important Announcement.

Ciao for now Friends and Neighbors.