About: Patience (Part Two)

I make my way through the revolving doors, not yet aware of the predicament I’ve put myself in.  The weight is easy at this point…barely announcing its presence…not yet unleashing its fury.  Off in the distance shines a tower.  I’ve been told the room number I must find and the fact that it lies in a tower just around the bend, just past the elevators.  I see the bend…I see the elevators…I will see the tower soon.  But first I must navigate my parcel through the packed casino floor.  There is no other way to go.  Forward, backward, left, right, past the cars, onto the turtles, advance past the logs on the river, then safe to the lilly pad.  Midway to the tower and my parcel introduces itself to me.  I suddenly realize that a time-out might be in order.  I find the nearest empty chair…smack dab between two super seniors fresh from the buffet.  Pleasantries and quizzical faces are exchanged and I’m off again.  It appears that in the mere moments of rest I’ve lost a significant portion of my strength.  80lbs is no joke, and now it feels like 100. 

Only by the grace of God do I make it to the elevators.  I’m headed to floor five, and I decide it’s better to hang on to the container at this point as my journey is almost finished.  I’m afraid if I set this down again, it will rest in this elevator in perpetuity.  No wine for the party…no “job well done”…no joy in Mudville, for Casey has struck out.  I can’t let that happen.  I’ll hang on to it for just a few moments longer, make a run for the room, and perhaps crack a bottle all for myself.

As I exit the elevator for the final leg of the trip, the lack of streamers and weeping women disturbs me.  Where are the well-wishers encouraging me around the final bend?...Where are my congratulatory hugs?... Where are the babies I’m to kiss?...Wait a second…??...where’s the room? 

With no other options at this moment, I set down the container in the middle of the round room.  I know the room number I’m seeking…of this I’m sure.  I also know that it’s not here.  I grab my phone and start dialing like a telemarketer.  I call the groom-to-be.  Ring…ring…ring…ring.  Ring…ring…ring…ring.  Of course he’s not answering!  He’s probably in a similar predicament as me…stumbling  amidst the lights and noise, muscles straining at their capacity, just trying to get by.  I call the General.  Ring…ring…ring…ring.  Ring…ring…ring…ring.  Why would he answer either??!!  I’ll probably see him stepping out of the elevator behind me, bleary-eyed and as confused as I.  I call the Ghostbusters, hoping they’ll be in control…but alas, I’m left to my own devices.  In a last ditch effort, I call the room number and the bride-to-be answers.  Validation!  I DO know the right room number!  Her voice calms me…brings me back to focus.  She has the answers, she will fix this situation.  I was right about the room number, indeed, but I was wrong about the tower, says she.  Turns out there are more than one bends, and more than one elevators…and I’m as far off course as Columbus when he “discovered” America. 

My heart sinks.  My resolve disappears.  My body protests.  I’m in trouble.  It’s 5:29pm.