Story Time

I'm listening to music in my car and I realize that driving in my car, high, with nothing to do, unlimited time and resources, on an open road, with a magnificent vehicle that responds to your every whim is my ultimate dreamworld. I'm realizing that the tire treads on my car are almost gone and even before then something else was wrong with my car and I never felt the car fully had control like my last car but it's faster but uncontrollable speed is useless so I haven't opened it up and... Fuck it.

So an hour and a half before my flight, an entire hour and a half after when I would normally arive, I decided to take a half hour speed trip.

I go on the road and I realize a few things. 1. Driving is immensely fun. As long as your vehicle is in excellent condition and the weather is right, everyone on the road understands the rules, driving is the most fun you can have. 2. I am constantly pushing my boundaries but there's more for me to go. I am still afraid of many areas. 3. I'm usually sacrificing for harmony. I'm afraid of chaos. This is why I test my limits against the world. I want to know the ultimate social rulebook. 4. I've been driving for a minute. I should probably go back. 

I listen to "Ghost Town" in my car in the extended parking lot 55 minutes before my flight, cut that off and start my journey.

"Checking in bags or not?" Usually I don't have more than one bag because I have no belongings but I was gifted a new computer and realized I was never able to take my old one unplugged anywhere so I took it. Extra bag. 

I look at my ticket and roll. "All passengers who don't wanna get stuck in this line but always, instinctively follow a crowd and get stuck here but aren't trying to be slow as shit because you're late...follow me." It's like they know your story and hate all of humanity from it. Not one person who has made that announcement hasn't complained audibly to me. But it's the job. Put your kids in customer service. It'll teach them so much. 

He read my life so I followed. Now. I'm going to teach you why people race. 

I was walking about half speed, maybe sixty percent. I was hurrying but I wasn't hustling. I wasn't using all that I had. I was secure. Safe. I was going through the motions. 

I got there, gave the woman my ticket. "This isn't a boarding pass." 

I gotta go back. My slim cushion became a second and a half too late. I hustled. 90% this time. I'm not fucking around. Heavy bag in hand I speed walk hurriedly to the nearest Southwest station. Ticket prints, I'm booming.

95%. I feel like I'm at work. I hustle up the stairs, in my mind thinking with a Russian accent "You trained for this," with extra roll on the "t" in "trained", and huff as fast as I can, get to gate A-2 and... the plane is gone. 

In life you fail when you try to stretch the limits of how far you can take yourself. You have to. Or you didn't go far enough. The question is how far are you willing to go and what are you willing to give up for it? I failed this mission. I reached my limit. 

I was also oddly complacent. I ruined possibly everything, possibly nothing. I'll know soon enough. I have to. It's here and I have no choice. What's the next play?

People race to see their limits. Whenever I'm on the road and I'm not paying attention enough or I'm feeling doubt of my driving ability or I'm not engaged, I slack. When I slack I make mistakes. When I make mistakes people can die. So on the road I definitely need to be 100% aware. But when someone comes along with the same or better opportunity to drive as me and out drives me, I realize I could do more. So I do.

Everyone in my life is better than me. How else could I grow? I look up to these people. I need to be engaged or I feel like I'm dying. And sometimes you do. You meet some people who kill you. But you never fully die. You just reached a limit. But what is it your true limit? Could you be doing more? Why aren't you?

None of that shit matters when you're in a fight. Or when truly in need of something. When your back's against the wall. You're testing all your limits out of necessity. You have no choice...

And you still lose. But you're not dead...

So I knew. I failed. I reached a limit. I gave it my all. And I still failed. What's the next step?

"Will passenger flight 1452 to Chicago Julian Hicks go to gate A-9. Gate A-9." I hustled my ass there. I got there and some random guy said "Mr. Hicks?" I nodded. He pointed to where I was going.  Wasn't even involved with my flight. I was just that popular for holding up an entire group of prepared people for probably ten minutes. 

I hustled past people waiting on their flights. Saw the boarding crew. Realized I was literally the last person holding this operation up. My immediate reaction was to see the funny in this. I joked about how everyone knew who I was because of the hustle. They all laughed at what I said because I have officially mastered whiteness and we moved on.

I walked on the plane. A worker says "You can take any seat you like. Take a whole row if you want." I walk back, see three consecutive empty rows in the back and sit in the middle of them all. Paradise. 

I felt alive, I felt failure, shame, recovery then treated like a king in spite all of that. It doesn't usually work out but it doesn't matter. I'll have to be okay either way. It also reminded me that some people are just lucky. I've been ridiculously lucky. To live in America now, as a black man or ANY man, instead a hundred years ago, to have this technology to have the friends that I have, the mother I was born with with the lessons I've learned and the people I've met along the way who are cruel and loving and able to laugh and talk and cry and feel pain and be vulnerable and articulate and grow and piss you off and attack you... I've had some pretty amazing experiences and I've been extremely fortunate to have had even one good thing happen to me.

The moral of the story is fly Southwest. These niggas won't leave you just to get home and watch Judge Judy early.