Said The Future's Comin' At You Like A Freight Train, And You're Walkin' A Wire, Cause She's Gone, Your Baby's Gone
wine as a metaphor for life? who knew?
There was one scene in particular that captured my attention and made me think of an experience from my own life. Actually, they were a couple of scenes, involving the loneliness Paul Giamatti's characters experiences back in his motel room while Thomas Haden Church's character was off having fun with the Sandra Oh's Wine Taster. I empathized wholeheartedly with him in being stuck somewhere with nothing to do and no one to do it with because that is exactly what happened to me.
I was in Philadelphia to visit someone I had gone out once with while she'd been out here in California. Let's just say that going into the trip I had certain expectations but upon arrival I had been sadly informed that my itinerary had undergone a certain change in fortune. And let us just say I was none too plussed about my having spent a small fortune in airfare and accommadations for a promise made and broken. So, after getting off the phone with my female companion close to tears and full of emotion, I proceeded to spend the next four hours in utter angst and turmoil. Like the girl in Glendora, I cried, cried, cried, cried, came back for more, did it again. I must have laid in that bed bored to tears and feeling like my vacation was all for naught. I watched programs on the television that I had no business enjoying and watching in the first place--how one can be so interested in the daily news of a foreign city is beyond me. I read Queen of the Damned for a couple of hours. And then I just laid some more.
I can tell you there is nothing like the desperation one experiences when one's immediate hope for better things has gone awry and he is left with the isolation of absence. It's like when you have plans and aspirations, be it for a trip or for a life, you have the strength of your determination. And when that is gone all you are left with is weakness of the sorrowful and lamentable. I felt it that night. I felt it hard. Those four hours I was crashing pretty hard. I was down on myself and I just wanted to pack my things and catch the next plane ride home.
Then I had a thought.
I figured I was in Philadelphia this one week. I could either waste it by staying up in my hotel room feeling sorry for myself or I could actually go and sightsee. I decided I'd wasted enough time in the city waiting for someone who apparently was never going to meet me. I decided I wasn't going to waste any more time. So at 4 a.m. in the morning I went for a walk around historical Philadelphia. It probably wasn't such a bright idea in the middle of the night, but I must say it felt freeing to be able to see the Liberty Bell and other sights without the big crowds that were there when I went later on the next day. I got to read all the plaques and just ruminate on the significance of every little thing on my own timetable. That hour of walking and reflecting on what this trip could be as opposed to what it had been did wonders for me.
I wouldn't go so far as saying that the rest of the trip went fluidly. I still had many terrible fights with the girl on the phone, but at least the rest of the trip was for the most part happier. Like the character in the film I turned what could have been a very downtrodden time in my life into one of my most memorable times I've ever had.
I came back to my hotel at 6 a.m., two hours after walking around, and they had just begun to serve breakfast in the restaurant. I sat down, talked up a couple of the restaurant staff, and even made a lunch date with one of the cute waitresses. All in all, I showed myself that a night that starts alone in my hotel room could end with a new friend and a new outlook on life.