Wicked Timing

Yesterday, my roommate Kevin and I went to Chicago to see Wicked...o.k....we were supposed to go into Chicago to see Wicked. We had the perfect plan. We would meet at the train station on this, the first 60 degree, sunny day of the Chicago spring that we both had free, and take a leisurely train ride into the heart of Chicago. Then we would go to the Borders bookstore next door to the theater, put our names into a drawing to get two seats near the stage for the amazing price of $25 each, and enjoy a great evening of quality entertainment and roommate bonding time.

Then I decided to iron my shirt. Who wants to go to a classy theatrical show with a wrinkled shirt, especially when it's already a faded second-hand Banana Republic polo with a couple iron burn marks? This decision, small as it seemed, made me miss the train by about 3 minutes. The next train to Chicago was leaving two hours later, and that would have been too late for all practical purposes. What could have been an exciting afternoon in Chicago was then down shifted to a spur-of-the-moment matinée at the mall just up the street from our apartment, and followed by a quiet evening at home.

Kevin and I joked about the butterfly effect that my barely missing the train would have on the rest of our respective lives. Maybe Kevin was supposed to meet his future spouse at that night's Wicked performance. Maybe this night would have been the least attended Wicked show ever and we would have been assured tickets had we made it. Maybe the train would have mechanical problems halfway between a couple stations and the passengers would be stranded for a couple hours. Maybe Kevin was supposed to be working on his portfolio and this was a sign. People are always reading into things, stargazing, wondering how their lives would have been different had they made different choices. Yesterday I was reminded that our choices are like dominoes: they affect our future, other's futures, and the other choices we will have as a result.

The previous night, I had watched this year's best picture, No Country for Old Men. Among other things, it's an intriguing exploration of chance, choice, and destiny. Each central character seemed to embrace a different philosophy of life in regard to the role of choice. There was the trailer park cowboy who believed he had complete control over his destiny, the disillusioned sheriff who seemed to believe his destiny was set in stone and he was simply living it out to its inevitable conclusion, and the psychopathic killer who believed the power of choice was swallowed up by the rule of chance and as a result was as stable as a gust of wind.

Funny thing is all three seem to resonate with my unfortunate experience. I had the choice to leave 3 minutes earlier and probably would have made it had I done so, but I also could have made it had the stop lights or any other chance aspect of my trip to the train station gone differently. Yet, apparently I was destined to miss the train, because that's what happened. Guess I got a good lesson in philosophy, but I'd trade it to have seen Wicked instead. If you see me with a wrinkled shirt the next time you see me, you'll know why.

Cars Need HMOs!

Vehicles...can't live with 'em...can't live without 'em. I took my car in for some routine work today and found myself in another world. Cars were jacked off the ground; suspended as if they were weightless. They looked kind of exposed just sitting there. It was like a doctor's office. The doctor has you take your clothes off then just leaves you there wearing nothing but a flimsy gown as your eyes bounce around looking for something to focus on...anything but the sterile florescent glow and the jar full of tongue depressors. The mechanic's is no different. The cars rest elevated with their parts exposed, useless, waiting for a diagnosis.

Another similarity soon became apparent. Car manufacturers, like medical professionals, operate in a completely different world when it comes to cost. Go to Wal-Mart and a bottle of Tylenol will run you about 8 dollars. Go to any hospital, and two Tylenol pills cost like 80 bucks! Similarly, in the real world, rubber is a substance you use to cork cheap wine, or make cheap, non-lethal ammunition, or cheap sports equipment, or keep a poster rolled up. Melt some of that rubber down and mold it a little and voila! you've got a gasket: an essential piece of equipment that keeps your car's oil from seeping out. The gasket itself costs a couple hundred dollars and the labor to put it in is a few more hundred (the labor costs make you think they have to disable a couple land mines). It would seem that car manufacturers insist on using materials that wear out quickly and putting the parts that wear out fastest underneath the parts built of more durable materials *I've got it...we'll put a dry cotton ball at the core of the engine and surround it with titanium. Then we'll insure the entire engine seizes if the cotton ball gets wet.* It sounds like sometimes you have to lift the engine to find and change the rubber band that's keeping your oil from spilling out. Welcome to the world of motor vehicles!

Half the time I wonder if the parts the mechanic is describing actually exist. To create a car part it seems all one has to do is pick a verb, add -er or -or to the end and then attach it to a metal container noun. *Yes, Mr. Jones, the problem is most definitely differential wear in the two sweeper rods. And when we replace those, you'll probably want to have the breaker tanks recalibrated*. Whether you understand or not, it's clear those sweeper rods need immediate attention, if for no other reason than ignoring a mechanic's suggestion makes the consequences he's predicting more likely to occur.

We complain about the high cost, but we keep going back, letting them perform the repairs they suggest, paying them for the peace of mind that you're not going to be the poor sap who has to abandon his car on the shoulder of the freeway as he searches for the mechanic he wishes he'd spoken to sooner. Or, we go to a friend who knows a thing or two about replacing rubber bands and lives in the real world. Thanks Stephanie.

Surface Tension

I dream.
What might have been, what may still be.
Thin tensile strength of buoyant rest undisturbed.
Soul mirrors stream across a transparent stage.

I fall.
Glimpses of sun break the surface.
The bubble bursts.
Phantoms flee before the power of dawn.
The prodigal returns.

I wake.
Born again in yawning eyes.
Find sink and soak till sleep is washed away.
Waves splash from earnest hands; bring me back to life.

I see.
Caffeine completes the aftershock.
Ripples spread from core to limbs.
Two feet land solid on the ground.
Mind again is cognizant.
The spell again is broken.