This afternoon I sat in the Aviator’s Club. Denver International Airport continues to ironically tout one of the last smoking lounges in American airports. With the smoke hovering like smog over a city on a hot, humid afternoon, I lit a cigarette and looked around the room at the characters passing by.
“What a place to start my journey,” I thought to myself.
Only moments before I was to board my plane and start one of the biggest and most important chapters in my life to date, I observed the unfortunate progression of time from the corner of a smelly, loud smokers sanctuary. With only a few quick glances, I was able to view the evolution of a smoker, from the newcomer who slowly drew out the same pack of cigarettes he had the last time he flew about a month ago, to the veteran who masterfully balanced the size of the fiery end up his tobacco stick.
I saw life from one point to another.
Quickly I doused my cigarette in the freshly cleaned ash-tray delivered by my waitress and dashed out the door, hastily dismissing the fascinating lifeline I had just tracked.
Bright orange satchel over my shoulder, garment bag in hand, I briskly walked to gate B47…NEWARK.
Though the airport on July 4, 2008 was surprisingly quiet, the multitude of stressers and anxieties busily running through my head screamed at me. Why was I going to Newark, NJ on the 4th of July? That’s when I recalled what I was doing.
I let out a quick chuckle, which released a small puff of air from my nose that shot through my mustache. An Irish Proverb I had read only days ago sprang to the forefront of my mind, blasting away the pesky worries that had held me down for the last three months.
“Making the beginning is one third of the work.”
Now on board my transport to mental clarity, my heart-rate increased. I was leaving Colorado to seek-out “what’s next.” My heart beat even faster.
An entire Exit Row to myself, a small box of assorted foods and my freshly updated iPod were my company. I shut my eyes and pretended to sleep as the always educational safety video began to roll. My mind began to race at the same pace as my heart.
“In the event of an emergency, follow the illuminated paths through the cabin to the exit nearest you…”
At once…my eyes opened, my heart-rate returned to normal and a small grin stretched mildly across my face. I understood what I needed to do.
New York City, Princeton, Jersey City, Hoboken, Hamilton, Elon, Manhattan, Gibsonville, Washington D.C., Baltimore…all these destinations represent small bottles of paint that I can use to paint this blank canvas of mine. My decisions and actions, my brush.
The wheels of the plane retracted with a thud as we soared over Colorado, heading due east. The first stroke of my brush touched the canvas.
