The Nostalgic Tourist

Published March 29, 2006

art airplanenightI woke up at 4:30 a.m., in order to catch a 6:30 flight to Newark, in order to grab a car service for an hour-long drive to New Jersey where the CandyMoon Corporation is located. All this in order to make a 10:30 a.m. meeting with the TWINbiscuit Brand Group. Carpe Dead-End. At O'Hare this morning, in a pre-grande-coffee-of-the-day condition, I noticed something which ushered me toward my present state of emotional poverty. I noticed Gate B-10. Non-stop to California. Non-stop to Los Angeles. Non-stop to my memories of the one that got away. A girl. The girl. The one I let go when she answered the call of the ocean. The crux of the problem is an under-the-skin, unforgettable loss with the theme, "Piece Together The Crumbled Cookies & WIN."

We were the Harry and Sally of Personal Romance Building emotions. Play the relationship backwards, and we'd still be together.

Yeah, in the beginning it was bliss — but isn't it always? Her name is Jane. I used to call her Weakness. "Why do you call me Weakness?" she would ask every time. "Because you're mine," I would respond. We did this often. It became our mantra. It was a foreplayful nickname game that elicited loving emotion, long before we were ready to say, "I love you."

Wish I didn't see it. Gate B-10. Non-stop to my every regret.

Back in Califon, the clients are treating us to lunch. Problem is, their idea of a "good lunch" is ordering in from a "great sub shop around the corner," while we pound out the year-long promotional plan for TWINbiscuit. My roast beef submarine sandwich arrives wrapped in wax paper with Blimpie logos all over it. It makes me feel so special. We eat. We plan. We brainstorm. We shake hands. The day is finally over. Lennon and McCartney have left the building.