Friday, August 24, 2007
That Sinking Feeling
(A special post for my friends over at SundayScribblings)
Travelling, especially business travelling, can put one out of synch especially if you do it like I do it. I travel some but not enough to call myself a pro by any means. There is nothing wrong with getting out of your routine once in awhile. I believe it is highly desirable.
(My lost baby and my lead singer laying it down)
Last week, I hit the road early on a Thursday morning to drive to a business event. It was about a 5 hour drive to the coast. The business event was more fun than work so it was something to look forward to. The catch was that on Monday I had to be about 2 hours inland from the
coast. Once I would get to that destination, it would still put me 5 hours from home. It made no sense to me to drive all the way home on Friday night just to get up on Monday, work a few hours, and then make virtually the same 5 hour drive back. So, it was a weekend at the coast.
Then, my boss invited me to play golf with him at his club on Sunday afternoon. This would take me away from the coast a little earlier than I had planned. I decided that, since I was leaving the coast early, I might as well make it real early. I decided to tee it up at a great golf course on the coast, play the round, and then travel over the two hours to my boss's club for another round of golf.
I started to load up the vehicle at about 5:30 in the morning. It was still dark outside. The small hotel lot had been full the night before and I had to park across the street. I grabbed a light handful of things and went to my car. Upon reaching my rental vehicle, I set everything down so I could open the door. I loaded my few things and backed the car up so I could bring it to the front of the hotel. This would allow an easier loading of the second group of items.
I went to my hotel room. I made a sweep around the room like a detective to make sure nothing was forgotten. Satisfied nothing had been left behind, I exited and started the traveller's waddle down the hallway with a wheeled suitcase in tow and a bag or two over my shoulder.
I stopped and said, "some detective you are. Do you have your guitar anywhere in your midst, Nutster?"
What a dork! I got out the magnetic card, made a few swipes, and the door popped open. I went to where my guitar had been but no longer was.
And I got that sinking feeling.
"Uh oh. That first load to the car. I had my guitar in my hand. When I backed up, I remember hearing a strange little kind of noise."
The traveller's waddle now became a comical jog. I flew through the lobby and tossed my items into the Xterra. I fired the 4x4 up and screamed across the dark parking lot readying myself for the ultimate horror that I had run over one of my precious babies, my Taylor CE614 guitar. As I got to the empty parking stall that had been mine, I stopped the car and shined my lights on the darkened spot expecting to see my guitar in a crumpled mess.
But there was nothing.
My poor guitar had laid there in the dark for only 15 minutes in the predawn hours but it was now gone. Resigned to the fact that I would never see it again, I only ache for closure and to know it's condition.
I hope my baby lived and it's sturdy case protected it from my early morning brain fade. I long that whoever picked it up can put it to better use than the clumsy hands that had held it previously.
Moral of the story: watch your children. It only takes a few moments of negligence for them to be gone.
(Don't feel too sad, however. While I lost my child just a week ago, I am gleefully dashing from guitar store to guitar store in search of adopting an upgrade! While the loss was sad, we mustn't dwell in the past!!!! Plus, today is my birthday so I get a new UPGRADED toy!!!!)