The Old Friend

I’m in the office today for the taping of two episodes of the weekly program I produce.  I’ll be leaving shortly before the end of the second taping, handing the escort out over to a production assistant, and jumping in a cab to the airport.  After about forty-five minutes of rainy-day, capital city traffic, I’ll get to lumber through the airport with equipment I don’t dare check, for fear it will either not make it to my destination or be damaged when it arrives.  I’ll practice a little Lian Huan Tui, if there’s room in the room, grab a bite, go over my notes for tomorrow morning’s interview, chat with the family by cell and hit the hay.

Tomorrow morning, I’ll check out, head to the home of the March guest for our monthly program, interview him about how he writes in the space where he writes, and thank him profusely for his hospitality.  Then, I’ll dash to the airport, again lumber along with equipment I don’t dare check and hope beyond hope that I don’t damage any upper body muscles needed to execute my long staff form to the best of my ability.  

I’ll fly home, get a cab to my house, drop the equipment in the entrance way, change into kung fu clothes, and double check to make sure the family hasn’t left at home anything I need to practice with.  I’ll then head back out the door to meet up with my better half and children, who will already be in sparring class at our guan.

I’ll get in my last practice in comfortable, familiar surroundings on Thursday night, get in as much conversation as possible with my children, in between each of our showers, replace the work clothes in my overnight bag for the kung fu clothes and jeans, and sufficiently pack up my weapons to prevent damage.  I’ll grab a bite, hug and kiss the kids goodbye – again, get in some conversation with my spouse and hit the hay.

Friday morning, I will rise pre-dawn, head to the airport with my sweetie, check the weapons and pray the staff arrives in one piece.  I’ll kiss her goodbye at the security checkpoint, then turn into a walking wall of nerves until my one “perfect” (hopefully!) minute of long staff form execution is over on Saturday morning.

I’m exhausted.  Right here, right now.  And I still have it all to do.  It’s a good thing adrenaline and I are old friends.

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About T. D. Davis

Baker and former journalist. View all posts by T. D. Davis

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