La Vida Bhagwan

So sometimes, my life takes me places.

An otherwise interesting diversion or series of events, puts me exactly in the right place, at the right time.

For example.

About a month ago, my commute got a lot shorter, as my time with WizKids came to an end. It was a pleasant, professional parting, and despite what yahoos on the internet said, I was not fired. My job title of “Special Projects Manager” implied Special Projects on which to work. Having completed all of the ones on my plate, it was decided that for the short term, keeping me on day to day was not in the company’s best interests.

Really can’t argue with that, and I maintain friendly relations with the management.

This is relevant because of the following. On Wednesday, I got a call from WK letting me know that the automatic deposit of this week’s check (I am enjoying a generous severance) was delayed, so a physical check was mailed to me. not normally a problem, but various additional expenses in the last few weeks had me right on the wire as to available funds. With friends coming in from out of town tonight, it was a fervent hope that the mailman would deliver some cash monies.

I got back to the house this morning from an overnight stay with Linz around 8:30, and was really too tired to do much of anything. So I laid out on the couch to finish one of the worst books I’ve ever read (more on this later), and ended up napping in starts for the next 3 hours or so.

The mail comes at noon.

I wake up at noon-thirty.

When I’m home, I typically keep my front door open.

So I stumble on out to the box, and there is a happy check there. Yay me, and nothing has been stolen.

So now I have a decision to make as to lunch (which I can now afford), and as to how to deposit the check. There are four branches of my bank within cycling distance, and all are reachable within the time frame in which I will need to eat.

So I’m on the bike, I’m out the door, and I’m navigating the tricky interchange of the Nickerson bridge. It’s far easier for me to ride over the bridge and into Ballard to bank (~ 1.5 miles) than it is to get across the street to the branch I can see from my living room (1/2 mile, the Fisherman’s terminal branch), because of steps, streets, bridges, and intersections.

I’ve never banked there, you see. I’ve walked and ridden by it, but I’ve never been inside it, and new things are what I’m all about. So getting there, I have pleasant conversation with the teller, who gladly deposits my entire check, minus some cash and a full roll of Arizona State quarters. This is relevant, because depositing the check at the ATM would have placed a hold on my funds, and would not have given me quarters at all.

But it was a good transaction. Now to lunch, and the notion comes to mind to ride over to Red Mill Burger on Dravus, about 1 mile from my current location. Red Mill burger is closer to my house than it is to the bank, so it’s a good ride. Especially since to get there, I have to ride up two hills into Magnolia, and then down Dravus and up a smaller hill.

A good ride. And I happen to have cash on me, since I just went to the bank, and cash is what Red Mill has asked of me in exchange for goods and services.

So I’m in the restaurant, and they are short on cash. this is very amusing to me, and since I’m pretty hungry (two cups of tasty yogurt and some not-as-tasty-as hoped oj were 5 hours ago), I bump my order up a bit to reduce the change they will give me. Success, and I have a pleasant nod to the other bicyclist I see in the house. I seem to have dropped one of my gloves as was entering, and another friendly patron calls it to my attention as I am waiting. I thank him, and my order is called. My food secured, I head outside to eat.

I had intended to read my latest issue of SI, something I rarely do in the week in which I receive it. but I’ve packed it with this in mind. But I am distracted by gusts of wind, that send a few of my napkins flying. while getting things sorted out, I admire the bicycle propped up against the building. It is a nice street bike, with a solid frame, competition shifters, and an extended chrome seat pipe.

It’s also not locked up. This is a remarkable display of trust, since I know from experience that an unattended, unlocked bike is often a bike in search of a new owner. My burger is tasty, and I am starting in on my tasty shake when the other cyclist comes out to eat. We exchange greetings, and I ask him to sit with me.

Turns out, we are about the same age, although he emigrated to the states from Cyprus three years ago. He is wearing a Turkish national team jersey, and in fact rode for Turkey for 15 years.

Which means, had I made the Barcelona team, we would have competed in 1992. He speaks at length about life here, life back in Cyprus, and the major differences between the two.

in Sali’s eyes, they are as follows:

Americans do not take enough vacations

People here do not trust each other enough.

A cup of coffee should not cost more than a gallon of gas.

Having traveled the world, it is still amazing that so many wonderful things are generated and started here in the US, and so many people are rushing around so much that they never see them.

My start to this conversation?

“Hello”

This happens to me all the time. I get the sudden urge to go a different way, that journey takes a slightly longer time than normal, and I arrive in the exact place to listen to someone tell their story.

Were I in an office today, I would have missed all of this. Plus, wouldn’t have had a good bike ride.

In the last 20 years, I have heard stories of Child abuse, alcoholism, been the reach out for several attempted suicides, saved stranded motorists, fallen in and out of love, and discovered amazing places to live through this process.

The next 300 are looking pretty promising for more of the same.

Life is funny.