Two Cities

I was living the tale of two cities today.

From eight to five I was working in a sprawling government complex, strolling long halls lined with filing cabinets, scheduling and attending meetings, reviewing lengthy documents, and answering a continuous stream of e-mails.

Six-thirty found me strolling the boardwalk eighty miles away, unconcerned with schedules, breathing the salty ocean air, and heading to my favorite beach front restaurant for a fish dinner.

There on the boardwalk I felt like I had just been sent for a joy ride via the transporter on the Starship Enterprise. Apparently my appearance matched my mental state. To the crowds on the boardwalk I obviously stood out like a member of an alien race who had just beamed to earth. I created a one man traffic jamb as folks dressed in jeans, shorts, and t-shirts slowed to gawk at my dress pants, starched shirt, and polished shoes.

To be in two such distinct locales in so short a time would have boggled the minds of my grandparents. For them, prior to the construction of four lane bypasses, a trip to the beach would have taken half the day. Making the journey in eighty minutes would have seemed as improbable as the teleportation of matter.

Perhaps by the time I'm a grandparent, my grandchildren will be as comfortable with having their molecules scrambled as I am comfortable with sliding into a car and zipping from the world of cinder block walls to the world of shifting tides.