In the wake of returning the heavy lifting gear, I find myself once again on a plane, bound for Memphis. Talking to Don Kessler, who moved from Hollywood to Hattiesburg. Then it's a short flight. Small airports on each end. It gives me time to decompress. I'm not in charge of anything. I'm just along for the ride. And that's just fine with me.
Until my limo vanishes! I'm walking around the humid shadows of the airport, trying to find the guy holding a sign with my name. But he's nowhere to be found. Fortunately I have two things at my disposal: a blackberry and a very (VERY!) good cup of coffee. And before I finish the later, the former is used to summon my ride.
And after I arrive, I wash it down with a phenomenal medium-rare ribeye steak.
The rest of the day is just work. Describing it would only result in premature sterility.
But the night ended with a first class, executive-level bang. I got to hang out with all the upper level folks (CFO, CEO, all the chiefs!) watching the NCAA finals. In the rainman suite. With buckets of beer and all kinds of greasy fratboy food (pizza and wings and fries) and a dozen men screaming and cheering about basketball. Quite a party. A rare treat. A brief glimpse into their lifestyle. And I lived to tell about it.
We all float down here.
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