Sunday musings 5/29/16
Sunday musings…
1) Yankees. A new, matte black batting helmet has been unveiled for the road, the first substantive change in the New York Yankees uniform in ages. One of those “things you thought you’d never see.”
Kinda like those Nike swooshes at the Regionals this weekend.
2) OG. Where are all the CrossFit OG’s? At least the out front, in the public eye OG’s. Sure, we get a full dose of The Dave Castro starting around the Open, but where is everyone else?
Thank Heavens Annie Sakamoto was added to the studio show to keep poor Pat Sherwood company.
3) The fly. There’s always ever only one. THE fly. Have you noticed that? Is it the same in your house? Maybe you opened the door and just one got lucky, got in by accident. Or you finally tired of getting up and down to let your dog in or out and just gave up and left the door open.
And in came the fly.
It’s called a housefly, but in truth it only BECOMES a housefly once it comes in that open door. Kind of like Ron White and being drunk “in public”. That fly belongs to you, and you alone. It’s as if there’s some kind of unwritten contract (Can flies write? Can they have written contracts?) that bestows ownership of your house, of your personal airspace to one, single, solitary fly.
The dog lies across the threshold of the open door that welcomed the fly. Once just a fly, now a housefly.
My housefly.
4) 4 Stars. The Windsor Court Hotel in New Orleans is one of my favorite places in all of the world. Tucked into a corner across the street from the casino, equi-distant from both the convention center and the French Quarter, it is an oasis of genteel service surrounded by a kind of institutional crassness. Just walking through the gate and seeing the fountain in the courtyard always makes me comfortable, makes me smile.
What I really love about the hotel, though, is that it is a place of exemplary service in which I can just act like myself. Do you ever go to a new restaurant or hotel that has a reputation for excellence, a place inhabited by a clientele with whom you might not regularly consort, and feel like you (and your behavior) are being judged by the staff? You find yourself trying to “live up to” the expectation of a waiter or concierge, inverting the service continuum because deep down you’re not really convinced you belong there. Somehow you have to “live up” to the place. You are there for them, rather than the other way around.
In my 30’s and 40’s I never, not for a single minute, had that sense in any situation whatsoever. I owned every room I walked into, no matter who was there or who was yet to arrive. Several major life events occurred in my 50’s which not only humbled me a bit, but also shook my core sense of worthiness. It’s as if those setbacks and challenges had somehow negated what my family and I had accomplished as we climbed out of the bitter poverty of my Dad’s youth. Even my wardrobe, classic and conservative almost by genetic decree, felt uncomfortable for a time. Funny, to find myself trying to impress a waiter, let alone another guest, as if I needed to prove I was worthy enough to be served.
The quiet, comfortable service given me as soon as I stepped out of the cab and was welcomed back to the Windsor Court has brought order back to the service continuum for me. In my day job I provide the service, and each of my clients deserves to assume that they are worthy of my very best. When I close up the shop at day’s end and head out I am now the client. Whatever room I enter is now once again mine. Tuxedo or tee shirt, my clothes fit me like a glove. Wherever I end up, I belong.
You do, too.
I’ll see you next week…
–bingo
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