Travel Time

Something that I did not blog about was a potential trip to India for work. I was worried about jinxing it, which, as it turns out, I should not have worried about.

We were waiting for funding: we waited, we waited, I put off booking stuff, put it off, couldn't put it off any longer. I emailed my boss and said I couldn't go.

But fucking christ, did I want to get out of Ottawa, and how. I tossed around other ideas - Havana, Austin, Northern California.

What? I hear you say. Does not a certain Conference Fling live somewhere...

Oh yes, yes he does.

I spent a few days mulling over whether or not I should ask if I could impose myself on his sunny climes.* Before I could come to any concluding conclusion, CT beat me to the punch. Did I want to come? Visit him?

Hell yeah. I should say so. I was a little cautious about saying yes impulsively. Was I running away? Would seeing each other again complicate the very lovely relationship we've built?

CT told me he would be cautiously optimistic over a couple of days until I gave him my answer. Though of course by "I need a couple of days," I meant "I need to talk to Shelley."

When I asked Shelley if going to California wouldn't be running away, she pointed at the giant snow drift behind my head. "Of course you're running away! Who the hell wouldn't run away from Ottawa in March?"

With that sage advice under my belt, I walked in my house, fired up Skype, and said yes.

Now, not only do I get to go to a place that gets a skim of ice a couple times a year, I get to see CT in all his glory. I get to meet his dog, the friends I've been hearing about, see the house he bought while he was in Ottawa.

It's strange to have a friend and not be able to picture them in their context.

I have a general sense of what CT's town looks like, have seen some pictures of his house, the wall behind his web cam, have watched Lenny the German Shepherd walk into the room and put his head in CT's lap. I know what half of the en suite bathroom looks like.

Not much to go on. Not enough, is what I say.

I'm flying into San Francisco, we're spending 4 nights there. I'm hoping we can take a long wandering drive back to CT's home town, and then 5 nights in his house before he drives me back to SF to head home.

A few days after this got all planned - yesterday - my boss called me into his office. They'd gotten the funding for India, after all. My chest seized in panic. Were they going to want me to go? Would I be able to say no? I had commitments! I had nice weather and warm arms waiting for me in California!

What would have been an enthusiastic whoop three weeks ago turned into a series of choked-back nononononononos stuck in my throat.

"So [redacted is] going, as before," my boss said. "And as well..."

I set my jaw.

"So is [redacted]."

I let my breath out. Quietly. I was not redacted.

"You," he pointed his head at me, "I want to send to Dublin at the end of April. Does that work for you?"

I should say so.

*Yes, that is what the kids are calling it these days.