A Crimson Dawn

Last night I had the unenviable task of preventing Mr. Klienveldt from leaving Boston. Mr. K had just lost his job as campaign manager for the candidate and in a huff was planning to go to Washington (D.C.). Somebody had let the ball drop. Things should never have reached this far. I should have never been called in. Of course, certain parties wanted to ease his passage to D.C.

Mr. K of course did not want to alarm his wife and so conveniently did not mention the loss of income to her. Well it wouldn't have mattered if Mrs. K had stayed in Wyoming as she originally planned to. But when Google flights suggests that you return a week earlier and save $300 (yes, you read that right) you do not just ignore it. So she came back. Just in time to conveniently run into Mr. K and Ben, their 1 year old son, at the waiting area.

Mr. K was reclining on the uncomfortable airport chair with his son slung over the arm of said chair, contemplating on his near future. This is when he heard the familiar sharp intake of breath which meant that, forget his near future, his immediate future was in imminent danger. He looked up startled, almost toppling his precious son. As I looked on from behind a useless newspaper, I congratulated myself on another job well done and rustled about, ready to up and leave. But my job is never that easy. It turned out I did not know Mr. K as well as I thought I did. He came clean about his job scenario and did not invent the convenient lie of having come there to receive his wife. Surprise! Now Mrs. K wanted to join him on his journey to D.C. What's more as they moved their discussion to the airport coffee house, lo and behold, a woman was loudly proclaiming her disinterest in traveling to D.C. in the very same flight as Mr. K. Mrs. K could not believe her good fortune and neither could I. As she fell into conversation with the non-traveling woman who wanted to surprise her sailor boyfriend by staying, I decided it was time I stepped in.

The exchange of pleasantries had happened and so had the ticket for money exchange. And to my dismay I recognized the sailor's good girlfriend for one of my former. This was not good news. I thought my chameleon days were over. They all ordered coffee and the girlfriend excused herself to presumably go to the restroom (probably to contact Control). I occupied the now vacant seat. Klienveldt was busy on the phone, so it was his missus who first noticed me. Naturally, she asked who the blonde gentleman might be. I replied that I was a former employee of her husband's and owed everything I was to him. She was so overcome by my sincerity that she responded with her first smile of the day. Her timing could not have been worse as Mr. K returned to profess no knowledge of knowing me. I laughed it off, holding her hand, spreading warmth through her, saying I was her kind hearted friend's sailor boyfriend and wanted to surprise her. Much relieved, the K family joined me in my laughter, Ben included (he probably knew better than his parents, my source of mirth). The coffees arrived and I took my former girlfriend's and excused myself, saying I will go find her. As I stood up, my Navy whites momentarily blinded them as the sun peeked out spreading crimson throughout the Boston sky.

I met my supposed girlfriend at the next table, and handed her, her coffee. The chameleon that I am she did not recognize me and accepted the coffee thinking that I was merely transferring it. I left them happy, my job once more done. The familiar scream, the instant panic followed by the crowding. Then I made the mistake of turning to look, to find Mrs. K's accusing eyes burning into mine. She shouted to alert the incoming security of my presence. I turned and ran in a most obvious fashion..

As I walked out of the airport in my tweed jacket, with the wind rustling through my dark receding hair, I silently appreciated my own foresight in paying the five Navy men to run through the airport corridor exactly at 6 am. I looked up to see the crimson dawn turning into day. Hopefully my days as the chameleon were at an end...

Ramblings under the influence (of tea)

I am at a coffee shop, working on many things. I am sitting across a guy who looks like Matt Damon from School Ties (sorta). I also saw a woman in the bus today who looked like Katie Holmes. I considered approaching her and telling her. My sense of propriety along with a lack of my usual boldness combined to prevent me from committing that particular gaffe. Now, sitting across Matt (for lack of a proper name) I realize how big of a gaffe it would have been. I am thankful somewhat that my ancestors have not passed me any 'famous person look alike' genes. It would be pretty irritating to live a life of assumed fame and constant misunderstanding. I recently heard a "This American Life" episode called Doppelgangers. This line of thinking has reminded me of that particular episode. You should definitely check it out. You would realize, I think, the analogy and come to a conclusion similar to mine.  So the next time you think of complementing somebody with 'Hey, you have Tom Cruise eyes.' or 'Hey, you look like a tall Drew Barrymore.' just don't, okay! Note that, I am not just asking you to refrain from using these particular statements, but comparisons to famous people in general. 

This brings me to a sort of related line of thought. We as a people hate being judged for our looks. People always tell me you should not judge a person by what's on the outside. Or the more popular - 'It's what's on the inside that matters." I guess they are talking about character, intellect, one's soul or something along that line. My confusion here is a fundamental one. Why is it wrong to appreciate somebody's beauty? Or give them jobs based on their appearance? Or build a relationship based on their looks? One of these is seemingly ok (at least appears to be). You can appreciate somebody's beauty. But, in practice it is not very ok. You can not walk up to someone and say "Hey, you look stunning." or "Hey, you look sexy." But it is perfectly acceptable to say, "Hey, what you said is pretty intelligent." To firmly elucidate my confusion: Intellect and creativity are as much based on good genes and are as random as large eyes, blonde hair or high cheek bones. Similar to intelligence, beauty also needs a lot of hard work to maintain and heighten. Somehow picking the best looking person is only acceptable if you are a model or an actress. People resent it when a better looking person is promoted to be the spokesperson of anything, or a news anchor, or the public face of an organization. Sometimes they are even promoted for jobs in which beauty seemingly does not have a role to play, such as a doctor. However research does suggest that we naturally trust people who are good looking. I am too lazy to provide you with a link to that research so please assume that I provided you with the pubmed link (Blame my genes).