I have to tell you this one story. As the two-week mark of Random Acts of Indecision loomed the only pressing major decision I had left was: If I decide to leave the country, where should I go?
Up until a couple of months ago I thought I had this one figured out. I had heard this character on NPR discussing how his family had narrowed it down by spending months asking renowned travelers where they would live if they could reside in any country in the world? The consensus was New Zealand, so he then went to New Zealand and roamed the countryside posing the question: If you could live anywhere in your own country where would it be? Every single Kiwi said the town of Nelson. So that was it, the family packed up and moved to Nelson to live happily ever after. And I thought man, at least that work is done for me.
But then I found out I needed a special visa and I could only stay for five months at a time or something and it was back to the drawing board. Fast forward to yesterday when I took my desk globe of the earth up to the park.
For some reason, I thought the globe might attract attention, like when a guy shows up with a macaw on his shoulder at a bus stop. Only instead of “Nice bird, mister” I’d be getting, “Hey, nice globe.” I was quite certain that, within minutes, families on blankets would be gathered at my feet shouting and pointing out exotic low cost of living locations on the globe.
No one was attracted to me.
And this is probably where you stop, shut your eyes and envision a man sitting alone in a park with a globe on his lap. And it’s spinning.
I was obviously too close to the situation to view it rationally. Aside from the spinning, there’s also the undeniable urge to run your fingers over the raised mountain ranges and the globe is so colorful that from a distance it might even appear to resemble one of those rainbow wigs extroverts wear at sporting events.
Within minutes, the park went from sparsely populated to desolate and I was running out of daylight. I had sworn I wouldn’t turn to the lone fisherman at the far side of the park but I was tired and cranky ... and cradling a globe.
“Well, let me see that thing,” the fisherman said as he grabbed the globe two-handed and held it in front of his chest as if he was about to pass it medicine ball-style to a washed up middleweight.
“There really is more water than land, isn’t there?” he commented before handing it back.
I not only got no answer but the crevices between the peaks of the Sierra Madres now smell like fish bait.
New rule: No props.