I'm just a little cleavage monkey


I don't know from Zen

but there can be an appreciation for peace in confident knowledge.

Shuttle bus from Midway to O'Hare. (Don't ask why someone who lives in Chicago would need to take this route.) The matronly Jamaican woman very politely asked the driver what time they'd be in Milwaukee. "9:40" he said and she repeated into her cell. After discussion in what sounded vaguely like english into her cell, she asked the driver, who had just pulled away from the curb and was piloting this behemoth betwixt cabs and cars, beneath the underpass at the airport, "would you please speak with my sister?"
"Sure. I just gotta radio in here." very heavy wisconsin accent (picture Norm the husband in Fargo.)
He uses the radio and then takes the cell to give this woman's sister directions from her house to the pick up spot at Mitchell Airfield.

This behavior, those accents, that interaction is me, home, the midwest. And I realize, I don't need to open my eyes to see where I am, I just need to open myself a bit and enjoy the moment, no matter how banal.

The not unpleasant whine the trains make on the BART system in San Francisco.
The cacophony of sirens and horns and yelling that is Manhattan (and is not in any way the same as a bunch of people trying intentionally to make noise.)
The lingering scent of Chocolate mingled with fresh water that can be had on certain Chicago afternoons.

Maybe it's just small comfort to a guy whose primary skill set relies on sight, but closing your eyes and being somewhere is way better than complaining about where you're not.

I also realize I over-romanticize the closer to home I get.