The Moisture to Continue

The Bank of America on NW 21st. Avenue, there in the "Nob Hill" section of Portland is open for business.  At 9:35AM I walked in to a phalanx of men and women in small town power suits, and business gear.  A grand opening.  "Have a Danish sir.  How can I help you?" My wife, on the other side of the country was signing something at a Bank of America in New York.  As long as I found a Bank of America in my locale, we could get this done where we'd both be able to sign and officiate the account.  I was assigned to Christian.  This was his first week.  He was nervous and pleasant.  He wanted me to talk to the small business banker.  That gent was very knowledgeable. "He knows everything about small business banking."   I'm sure he does.  But all I wanted to do was sign a document, Christian.  

It took much longer than it was supposed to.  It was not Christian’s fault.  As he appropriately reminded me.  This was the bank back in Poughkeepsie that was taking thirty minutes, not fifteen minutes.  I still had to get an Uber back to my Airbnb, get the luggage and talk the driver into tearing out to the airport in twenty-minutes flat. 

Christian had the fax, finally.  I signed three pages worth.  Now I was done.  The Uber driver came fast.  "Hello.  And so . . . where’s home?"  "Mogadishu."  I had been assuming this gent was from Eritrea but I couldn’t see how tall he was till he got out to help me with my luggage.  A creative driver, he got us there through back roads with five minutes to spare.  "Thank you."   So . . . let’s get a coffee. 

Sun now.  There’s always cutting sun at SFO.  Always sun till at least you get to the land-fill at the end of the Baylands Soil Processing Plant on Highway 101 with all the sea gulls that circle it and the fog halts there where it no longer has the moisture to continue.  My daughter asks if it will be warm or cold.  I tell her it's warm in the sun.

Friday 8/03/18