Day 4 - A home to long for.
Where am I? Why am I so hungry?! ... Am I hung over?!?! Slowly my groggy mind is able to backtrack the meager 3.75 hours to when I was last awake. No drugs, no alcohol; just plain ol' fashioned sleep deprivation! I fall out of bed and dress my wounds:
Blisters. Yuck.
. . .
Today is the first day of the conference. As I walk in, I'm both surprised by how small it is (easily less than 1,000) and at the same time intimidated by all the academia. I found a quiet corner where I could finish my breakfast and finalize my schedule for the day. I somehow managed to drop my last bite of Pop-Tart on the floor:
This is going to be a long day.
Sessions are hit or miss - if they are related to our company in any way, shape, or form (not very many), they tend to be pretty fascinating. Otherwise, they're basically dryer than a Saltine cracker delivery guy who's truck breaks down in the middle of the Sahara in July just after he runs out of water. Seriously, looking through the program, I have to wonder, who comes up with these names?! They seriously need a marketing department to make things more interesting. Hey! Maybe I could do it for them...
Revised Program
. . .
I'm really struggling in these non-related sessions - gum, pinching myself, water... just not cutting it. Time to get desperate.
1 inch coffee, 1 inch creamer, 3 packs sugar. Even in a solution as diluted as this one, the taste of coffee is enough to instigate a gag reflex strong enough to keep me alert for hours (Seriously. I forced myself to drink maybe 1/3 of my already 1/4 cup and fought the desire to puke at every sip, but was awake the rest of the day).
. . .
Not many options for lunch - $16 for a ham and cheese sandwich at the hotel convenience store or McDonald's. Kinda fun tho - Grandma was getting upset because the boy kept waving at me instead of playing with her:
That's right, they call me the 'Home-wrecker'.
. . .
Walked into the bathroom, and there was a female custodian refilling the paper towels. Walked out of the bathroom and double-checked the sign: Men. I can hold it.
. . .
"Work hard, play hard, rest hard." I've always thought that was a good motto. So far, this trip has been lots of work and lots of play. Therefore, today should be work and rest. Unfortunately, I'm not so good at the resting part most times, so.... I compromised. A quick walk through Chinatown on the way back and then I'll skip the 7:05 Cubs game.
Dinner was at Giordano's:
Famous Chicago-style deep dish pizza! Which really means a bread-bowl with a 3 lb. wheel of cheese in the center and some tomato sauce drizzled on top. Seriously, nothing but cheese. Seriously, awesome!
No one to share it with; guess I'll have to eat the whole thing...
Fail. Epic fail. Less than half, and I almost called a taxi. Better yet, an ambulance - they have stretchers and wheelchairs. Some of the convo's at the bar around me were turning pretty sketchy (you sell what?!) so it was time to duck out. I passed the Sears [I think it's Willis now, not sure tho...] Tower on the way home but passed on the whole pay-$25-so-you-can-be-stuck-on-an-elevator-for-5-minutes.-Twice. shindig:
Then there was the obligatory point where I pause and pray, 'Jesus, I can be ready to come home right now if you need me to, cuz you're about to get a real good opportunity here':
'Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for You are with me...'
When I got back to the room, I realized I didn't have a fridge for my leftovers. The front desk informed me I could rent one for $15/night - more than the cost of the pizza! Well, I needed a few more Pop-Tarts anyway, and it's pretty much a guarantee I'll see several people on the way there that could use half a pizza way more than I could. So I headed out...
Sometimes life is just so ironic I can't help but laughing - it was literally the only time the entire trip that I walked more than 4-5 blocks without seeing someone sitting on the street with a sign. I must've walked 20 minutes one way, much further than my necessary breakfast stop. Some day I'm going to have to write some of these cosmic jokes down so that when I get to heaven I can get some payback...
. . .
Frank is not like James at all - no witty jokes, no stories from his past. Difficult to understand. My first impression was a mental illness of some kind; I'm not sure. And I'm sadly pretty convinced that when it comes to the homeless, Frank is not the exception; James is. Those that need help the most - those with physical handicaps, mental illnesses, drug addictions, people unable to help themselves - are the ones that are cast furthest from society, from the help they need.
Frank was ecstatic over the pizza. I sat with him awhile on the curb outside Dunkin' Donuts. I'm not sure what spurred the decision to sit down - perhaps feeling hypocritical regarding a previous post, or maybe giving-and-ditching felt like the easy way out, or (most likely) I was feeling pretty lonely and thought he might be too. The convo wasn't great by any means - I struggled awkwardly all the way through, trying to find something in our vastly different worlds to be able to relate on. I don't think even noticed...
There was nothing to show for it at the end - no prize, no answers, no great revelation; just a few minutes spent talking before we were shoo'd away for 'scaring the customers'. Perhaps it was just my imagination, but I got the feeling I could've kept sitting there as long as I wanted.
I know that when I mix being really tired with being completely secluded (i.e. today!), my tendency is to head towards heartache. And perhaps that's all it is. Or maybe I am just hardwired to 'need' to do something 'good' sometimes; I don't know. All I do know is that every time I think of the Frank's of this world - no friends/family/hope, poor health, no consistent income, food or shelter - compared with all the Jeromie's - steady job, countless relationships, endless opportunities, love beyond belief - something screams out, 'Injustice!' It was nothing I did that enabled me to be born who/where/to whom I was; it was nothing he did just the same.
I try to be a realist - I know there are no quick fixes. I know that even if I give away every dollar I ever earn I'll barely scratch the surface of poverty. I know that there will ever be a permanent solution and that there's only so much I can do as an individual. But I also know that I need to do something - anything! - to keep fighting, to not grow complacent.
The way wealth is distributed in the world and used to create insurmountable barriers between rich and poor is profoundly disturbing. But part of me believes that sitting next to Frank, removing all those barriers between us even for just a few moments, was just as profoundly beautiful.
To be continued...
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