Weary Traveller

And his journeys haven’t even yet begun.

If you haven’t noticed, I’m having a bit (OK, more than a bit) of an identity crisis in my old age. Not keen on sitting idle while these demons further swamp me, I’ve resolved to do anything it takes to clear my head. Handwavingly consequently, my summer involves a total of FIVE trips (as of now). Details follow for the stalker types in the audience.

• A week starting at the end of this month through early June in Baton Rouge, Louisiana.
• A week in the middle of June at M.I.T, Massachusetts. Cambridge Mass is probably the most intellectually snooty and yuppie place I’ve ever experienced, ever. And I’ve never felt more at home.
• A week toward the end of June on the ski slopes of Vail, Colorado.
• Three weeks beginning at the end of June (going all the way through most of July) in the UK. By which I mean England, Ireland, Scotland AND Wales. Preliminary reading suggests these are, in fact, not just one country. The experiences will undoubtedly kick off with a life-fulfilling darshan of Oasis, the greatest performance band and arguably the greatest band ever, playing at their home town, Manchester. (Think grandparents wanting to bathe in the Ganges, Mustafa wanting to go to Mecca…).
• A week at the end of July in Austin, Texas.

However, I’m constantly running into a not-so-minor problem at the moment — I’m clearly completely inept at handling large volumes of information. Hell, I’m not even particularly good with handling little bits of information. Furthermore, since life can’t be too much fun without being randomly-insanely-challenging, here are two snags that’ve already cropped up.

a. In an act of purely astounding coincidence, my MOM and brother have independently made plans to show up here in about two weeks and proceed to roam about this country over a month. Needless to say, I’m going to be spending very little or probably no time with them. What can I say? I’m the self centered bad son/brother and they probably hate me.

b. I just received this e-mail from a friend with whom I planned to hang out with in London over the first few days.

da, im not in town through till around the 4th – im in india at that time for a friend’s wedding. also, i am missing the concert as a result.
nevertheless, you can come and crash at my place, thats no problem at all – ill leave my key here for you.
plan as you want and let me know.

(But.. BUT.. you HOLD MY TICKETS TO THE CONCERT!)

But sometimes, I guess you just have to step up to the plate and deal with it. Like a real man. Unfortunately, however macho I try to sound, a serious concern of mine are the details — the booking flights, hotels, contemplating tour options, figuring out what I want to do where with who, details details… they’re just driving me fucking insane. There is a very high probability I’m going to “arbitrarily lose track of” and consequently miss/mess up one or more of these.

That’ll be a hoot and a holler.

Well, probably not; I’m keeping my fingers crossed.