pWdumaNjA-6CEEBhRoD5euxNETs When All This Actual Life Played Out: Part 1: What do you think you're doing?

01 June 2015

Part 1: What do you think you're doing?

Hiking trail
San Antonio, Texas
15 May 2015

So, last week started here.

I looked at the tour schedule, and hey! Show on my birthday! Time to run away from home. D. and I conferred and a series of increasingly hilarious emails between the two of us ended with this:

That week looks clear, so we could do Austin, Dallas, Houston and Nawlins. What a hoot. And L is screaming that she wants to go to NOLA. And I'm screaming NO. And I just found out she has the day off because it's a four day weekend. *eye roll* 

But dayyam.

I wouldn't mind some time without my beloved family.

I didn't just say that.

As D. pointed out, I went there, and it was all over. Four shows in a week. I was leaving home for eight days. Unprecedented. That was in January.

Just a few problems, of course. We had tickets for Austin. She had tickets for Dallas. No one had tickets for Houston. And I'd gotten some pretty awesome tickets for New Orleans (seriously, birthday luck, because I couldn't even pull up tickets for most of the shows I wanted to see). And typically, we're both swamped with work and family and stuff. Then it's suddenly April, and I don't have airline tickets, hotel reservations, a plan. Or tickets for Houston. Or Dallas.

Or a PLAN.

Right around May 1, we start planning. Which leads to hilarity and me authoring threats like this:

I was planning to drive back to San Antonio with you on Monday so I can bake you a cake on Tuesday. I can keep you awake by singing loudly for two hours. Unless, of course, you don't want me. That's okay too.
San Antonio to New Orleans is an 8 hour drive. I know you like driving and all, but driving. I just checked Southwest, and they have a round trip for $200. Or I could stay put in Houston and sing to you for FIVE HOURS from Houston to New Orleans. Lucky girl.

So our escapade was shaping up. Except that come May 8:

I still haven't figured out Houston or gotten a return ticket.


And I was in the midst of mounting panic with end of the school year things looming like parties I was supposed to be planning for the conservatory, and workflow I was supposed to be coordinating. Stuff.

And all I wanted to do was leave.

Finally, May 14, rolled around and I was the picture of controlled disaster as I packed and did laundry and sent emails and left directions. I pretended that I'd be on a conference call the following Wednesday, knowing it was quite likely I'd be in Houston, even if I didn't have tickets.

(There are ways. I've been going to concerts since I was 12. There are always ways.)

I woke up, sheer panic, at 3 am on May 15. I had the alarm set for 4 am, but there it was and I was awake--on two hours sleep. I showered quietly, fed the cat and waited for the car I'd hired to arrive.

I got to the airport and did airport things, which included getting a cup of milky coffee. I stared blearily out at the lightening sky, and thought about all the times I'd watched the sun rise from this airport--and from airplane windows and other airports.

What do you think you're doing? I asked myself with something that might have contained a tinge of despair.

Though, of course, the answer is that I was doing the same thing I've been doing for the last 13 years. Carving out a small amount of time for myself in a world full of crazy.

Just before they closed the plane door, I texted D.

"On plane to San Antonio. See ya soon."

And off I went.


Today is June 1. It's Monday. That means there is Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday and Friday.

Then Saturday (ugh. But. Last. Time. Ever.)

Then comes Tuesday again, and Wednesday.



Miles to go and all that, but afterward...I don't even dare think.

Tech stuff: Taken with my iPhone6.

No comments: