nostatic at all...

Funny how expectations can color your life. In this case, I was pretty excited for a number of reasons. First off, I've been a part of this online community for almost five years now. Much of the darkest years of my marriage were spent in the company of these people...when I was stuck at home with nowhere to turn, I always had my Pelican buddies. They weren't always sensitive and touchy-feely, but I know that if things got really bad, they would have my back.

In this case it looked like a bunch of people would be flying in for the "ultimate pelican meet." But as usually happens in these situations, people start to drop out as the day approaches, and last night we had eleven people show up. Still, that is something...people who either drove or flew into town for the sole purpose of meeting, talking drinking and eating. Something to be said for that these days.

So the day finally comes, and after watching the weather for two weeks, I figure that there is no rain in the offing, and it looks like making the trip on the bike is a go. I wanted to go on the bike for a number of reasons, although I'm not quite sure what they are. Part of it is wrapped up in ego...wanting to be cool...showing up on the bike. There is some of that, after all, who doesn't want to be thought of as cool? But I think a lot of it is that for me it is a challenge. I've struggled with a lot of things over the years, and believing that things will work out ok is one of them. So to undertake a long distance trip on motorcycle (which mom would *never* have approved of) is staring in the face of many of my demons.

So Friday AM I walked my son to school, stopped at Peets for a mocha, walked back home and packed my tank bag for the trip. At 9:45am I rolled east on the I10, headed for sin city. I really don't like Vegas...it kinda creeps me out and is mostly depressing. I'm not into gambling, as I'd rather spend my money on stuff that makes me happy as opposed to flushing it down a toilet. But still I was stoked to go and see/meet everyone. My trip to SF was a bit hellish...9 hours each way, and my butt was numb and my hands aching. I anticipated that this time, although it is shorter by about 100 miles so I was hoping that would make it more enjoyable.

One great byproduct of riding is that there are few distractions. You need to pay attention to what you're doing, but cruising on the fwy at 85 or so with the whind blasting your helmet, you are free to let your mind work on whatever issues you want. And the gears were spinning along quite nicely. Work, play, family, friends, toys, relationships, etc...all getting processed.

I rolled into Vegas around 3pm but didn't have a place to stay. I was supposed to share a room with Joe but I hadn't gotten ahold of him yet to hook up...and he gave me the wrong phone number (a hint?). After a stop at Gordon Biersch for a late lunch, I figured out where the hotel was, and he finally called me, responding to my email (thanks, treo). This was the first time I'd met Joe, and he had offered me the sofa bed in his suite without hesitation. Like I said, these are great folk. I showered and changed, and after a bit of talk and rest, we were off to the Bellagio.

Slowly the group assembled, and I got to meet some of the people who I've only conversed with via text. My somewhat former arch-nemesis Tabs was the highlight, as we had exchanged many barbs over the years, but finally settled onto an interesting understanding/stasis. Joe had cuban cigars (shhh!), we had drinks, and talked about all the old times we never had.

We missed the buffet, and ended up at Jasmine restuarant in the Bellagio. $560 later, we were fed. Egad. We split up from that point, Joe and I hailed a cab back to the hotel, and we crashed. Except for the 4am cell phone call (Lagos, Nigeria for Joe...he's a pilot), it was restful. We headed out at 9am to meet a subset at Starbucks, and I was packed as I was going to head back to LA so I could pick up my son later in the afternoon. With a mocha and bear claw under my belt (so to speak), I said my goodbyes and headed south on I15. I was hoping to beat the winds from an approaching cold front, but no such luck. Much more work, but at some point I really stopped caring.

As I pondered the meeting, I felt somewhat depressed. It wasn't really an "ultimate" meet...so many people were no-shows. And while I'm not sure what exactly I expected, I didn't really get it. Don't get me wrong, it was enjoyable and these are truly GREAT folks, but we usually have these unrealistic and unknown expectations that invariably are never met. So as I rode, leaning into a crosswind at 90mph, I did what Watts said to do...I "thought about it."

And I had a bid of a revlation. The trip totally lived up to my expectations. Right in that moment. Because it wasn't about the meeting, the drinks, the dinner. I was about the whole thing. The entire journey. And at that moment I was cruising on the open road, wind at my side, totally at home with myself. And in part, it was made possible by the meeting. So as has been said before ad nauseum, it wasn't the destination, it was the journey. And a journey that continues. So there is no end, just a different road, at a different speed. With different partners coming along for the ride. Where you are in the moment doesn't devalue anyone or anything that came before, or dilute anyone or anything that will come next. It's all part of the one continuous mistake called life. It's an open road, if you choose to ride it. And I do. Leaning into my sharp points...