A Life in Waiting

Well considering I’m now sitting aboard the Lufthansa Airbus somewhere above the Atlantic between NY and Munich. It has been a long, exhausting time since I last truly posted on here and I will attempt to fill everyone in on my previous doings.

I would first like to say, “DAMN!” I’m not half bad at this writing thing. I know I am still quite the rookie, and as all my past English teachers would probably tell you, my vocabulary and grammar are quite lacking. Actually without the aid of Word and its grammar correction and constant spell-checker, these posting would probably be illegible. I was reading back over my previous posts as I always do to get my bearings before I write my next addition, and I got a bit choked up over it. I’m sure it had nothing to do with how much those words hit home, but my poetic recount was just so evocative. (Yeah right) I would like to address that post, however. I’m referring to the Full of Tears emotional waterfall that received the most commentary on A Life in Waiting.

That post was written right in the middle of my realization of the reality of all of this. I’m referring to leaving my job/career/business, giving up my home to live in a guest room, and having Maria and my family be thousands of miles and many months away from me. Any one of those is a major life change, let alone all of them all at once. With the instant realization of it all, my typically stoic self erupted in a fountain of estrogen and let loose for the first time in too many years. I would be lying if I said it wasn’t one of the hardest things I’ve had to endure in my adult life. And I do have to agree with some of the comments about that writing, regarding the surprise that I put it all out there. Shock myself every now and again.

Well once I got through my emotional outbreak, I barreled down and started focusing on my future. Getting all of the gear I needed, working overtime on both jobs and trying to get myself as prepared as possible. Throw in the fact that every male from here to Kalamazoo knew that Maria was no longer here, so every night seemed like a good reason to get me drunk. Doesn’t do much for productivity, let alone one’s savings.

Well not to bypass or disregard all that happened before this, I am going to jump pass a quiet Thanksgiving day and go right into my next ulcer inducing issue. Shipping a bike overseas. Well I had purchased the bike in September and had issues registering as I have discussed previously. Well I look fondly back on those days. As it is now the Friday after Thanksgiving, and I have still not received the title of my newly acquired BMW. So I swing by our local DMV branch to inquire about the title’s location. They give me the phone number to NY DMV’s title bureau in hands down my quickest DMV visit. So I give a call to the surprisingly friendly title bureau and find out that out of state title procurements take almost twice as long as in state ones. Meaning that the title I needed so desperately to ship the bike would be arriving a month after I depart. So after a bit of schmoozing and chatting it up with the gentleman on the other side of the phone (there’s a lot of motorcycle riders out there that love helping other riders) I was able to get a rush on the title. No guarantees, but a shimmer of hope.

So I was able to get the title shipped to me on the following Monday, arriving on Tuesday the day the bike needed to be at Lufthansa. Cutting it ever so close, as always. So the title arrives 2 hours prior to the time the bike needs to be at the cargo hold at JFK airport. After stopping by Paul Smith’s father’s shop to get the documents notarized, I fly off to JFK. In typical motorcyclist fashion, I ended up skirting all standard NYC traffic by riding shoulders and medians, making many friends along the way. Got there with fifteen minutes to spare.

So now I am getting myself ready to leave, as it is less than a week away. Stressful times. Making sure I have my ducks in a row (which I don’t) and just getting myself mentally and financially ready. So now it is a few days later, and my bike was supposed to leave by now. I check the website and find that it hasn’t. I call up and find out that customs never came by to ok it. Great. Turns out it was still sitting In the hanger right now, as I am flying high above the Atlantic. A full week after it was brought there. More fun to come I’m sure…

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