I think it was Gary Larsen who coined the phrase “Same planet, different worlds.” In the Far Side world, the phrase was used in a cartoon divided into two panels. The top panel was a guy sitting in bed with a thought balloon that read”I wonder if she likes me. I sure like her. It would be great if she likes me. I just like her so much…” and so forth. The bottom panel of the cartoon showed a woman in her own bed, and her thought balloon read, “You know, I think I like vanilla.”
Sometimes, Larsen just hit the nail right on the head, but what I’m thinking about right now when it comes to that same planet/different worlds concept is what it felt like in the line to clear customs upon entering Australia. Forgive me Gary, I’m repurposing your genius.
It was just past 5 a.m. in Melbourne and we had touchdown in Australia after a fifteen hour flight from Los Angeles. I was feeling no pain. I was way too excited to have any jet lag… although the nine hours of sleep I had managed to square away on the flight was also a nice add. However, I can imagine that for the unlucky soul who was stuck working pre-dawncustoms detail, this was not exactly how he wanted to spend his Friday. Me? There was no place on earth I would rather be. At 44, I was about to get my first passport stamp. Very late in coming, but it was finally here. All those people who say that they can’t wait to get their next passport stamp? I was about to become one of those people. I don’t particularly like the word “amped,” smacking as it does of a level of dudeness I cannot pretend to have, even after five years of living in California, but I was… amped.
It was hard not to notice, though, that the customs officer could only have been more bored if he had also been assigned to watch almost any episode of Downton Abbey while on duty, perhaps the one where we don’t know if Maggie Smith is going to take a dive in the annual flower show competition until the last five minutes of the show. I’m pretty sure nothing registered, or if he even looked up, as he stamped my passport with its inaugural stamp. Just another Qantas passenger moving over to the domestic terminal for the last part of the itinerary.
I could not have cared less. In my world, the best part of the journey was happening right there. Or rather, this was already a high point while on the trajectory of a journey that kept getting better, the first part had not disappointed.
What I want to say here is that there is a place for youthful idealism and excitement no matter how old you are. There is a place for finally following through on your dreams, and that a dream deferred is not always a dream denied if you finally follow through.
