“Living the High Life?” Tales From Life On The Trail
Am I living the “high life?” Hmmm, I dunno. In my day job one of my favourite commercials I get to listen in on is the one from Miller beer, “living the high life.” It lampoons people asking the proverbial Miller beer man if doing whatever means they are “living the high life!” It’s a great gig; the commercial makes me laugh every time I hear it.
So it got me thinking. Am I living the high life? Hmmm, some of you must be laughing, especially my mentor and best friend John Gardiner. Yes, “weez” been living the high life forever. In fact I bet John could tell me a few stories about living the high life. Let me tell you something, living the high life isn’t so bad. Seeing life scream past me, can be a real buzz.
Take last week for example. I have four regular deadlines a week, which includes one for the radio. However, last week I had two feature magazine articles to get done and a PowerPoint presentation to build for a trip to Grande Prairie Alberta. As the clock struck midnight, I was pretty exhausted. Everything done, I got up three hours later to drive to London to catch the Westjet flight to Grande Prairie, via Calgary and Edmonton.
When the clock radio screeched at 3:15a.m., it didn’t feel to me I was “living the high life.” No, getting this 48 year old body up and dressed isn’t what it used to be. I had carefully stored computer and clothes the night before. I warfed down some cheerios and was out the door on an extremely windy cold night to London.
It was a dry drive to London up until Wellington Rd. Then old man winter blew its fury all over me. It was so bad when I got to the London airport I had zero visibility, a foot of snow on the ground and three foot drifts in the parking lot. Hmmm, what to do except put my Alberta garb on and snowshoe to the terminal. A couple hours later believe it or not, I was living the high life ensconced in a too small seat while wharfing down a citrus cookie on the way to Calgary.
On arrival in Grande Prairie later that day, my “high living” was a bit crinkled. I was tired, my head dropping in my seat from fatigue. So when I left the Westjet and stepped down on the stairway into –35 degree snow and ice it was a bit like being slapped in the face—in a good way. I was living the high life all right, just what was I doing in such a frigid, dark, strange far away place?
I soon found out as I stumbled onto a shuttle bus, which moved at 100 mph on snow packed roads to my hotel. There a Saskatchewan transplanted farm boy turned Albertan with a first name of “Dion” who kindly welcomed me to Peace River country met me. He told me everything was taken care of. A couple of days later after spending time in a hotel suite and among new found Alberta friends I was introduced as their “feature speaker.” As I left the room an hour and a half later, I was greeted warmly with many thanks on a well-received presentation. That night I was a guest at the banquet. It seemed we were all living the high life.
The only problem was I had to leave the party to publish more articles on deadline that night. Got that done by 1:00 a.m. after which I crashed to bed only to be awakened by a radio saying it was 4:45a.m. I had to catch the 100 mph shuttle back to the Grande Prairie Airport. Wisk, bang, boom and roar, a couple of hours later I found myself in the Calgary airport putting in time for my way back to southwestern Ontario.
Unbelievable tired from lack of sleep and I must say, “living the high life”, I sat down for breakfast at an uppity Calgary restaurant, which had a couple tables, stuck out in the hall. A transplanted Ontarian named “Joe” joined me. He filled me in about how he and many others were enjoying “the high life” in Calgary. Hmmm, does the whole world live this way?
After scarfing down some bacon and saying goodbye to Joe, I watched “Coach Carter” on my Mac iBook whittling a few hours away until take off. Then somewhere over Duluth Minnesota I watched my final iPod video version of NYPD Blue. The plane landed in London, I pushed almost $50 into the parking machine and I arrived home about 10:00p.m.
Of course at the end of the day, the question is “am I really living the high life?” I think so, but then again maybe not. Sometimes life screams by us so fast, we can’t see the forest for the trees. Maybe life as it is, isn’t so bad.