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Seaing Things

I realized today I have more boat driving knowledge than car driving knowledge, which is not unheard of being raised on the Jersey Shore and all but I really am a bad driver on land. I guess I’m not a landlubber. I guess that first sentence had nothing to do with the rest but it is day three of the New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Festival and I am in my office listening to what I think is Jill Scott on Congo Stage and thinking to myself, “why me?” I’m not asking “why me” in the negative sense more so in the I have no idea how I got this job and how I convinced people I’m good at it. I’m handling payroll, making schedules, hiring people, firing people, and being told I am better than those who came before me. My boss keeps saying, “when you come back next year” and everyone else treats me like I’m actually important. I’m practically first-mate of this ship. Sure they make fun of my stick in the mud, tuck-in shirt and slacks-wearing, military-like attitude but they also realize I get the job done so at the end of the night when I have 70 plus people saying, “night Mr Anthony” it’s actually sincere. The people I’m responsible for like me and most of all they respect me. This job has really done something for me I don’t think I could have found in Atlanta. How often do people help escort Norah Jones off the stage and out of the area or watch Van Morrison have one of his panic attacks after a crazed fan bangs on his limo’s window. This is the type of job people my age kill. It is one of those long trips out at sea when the world is smaller and the contrast is bolder, however in the back of your mind you know one of these days you will hit dryland and it will completely kill whatever it was you became out at sea. Some men become homosexuals, some murders or thieves, and some just go insane from the endless of it all. After seeing someone I respect jumpship and swim back for land well after the storm had passed, I am starting to realize I’d rather drown here out in the open sea than go back to dryland.

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