After that first meal at the Italian House in Chicago with the over zealous matradee, we meandered back to our hotel to freshen up and get ready for an evening out on the town. At some point in the lipstick applying, Melessa said something to the effect of, "What does one do now when in Chicago on a Saturday night?"
My response was, "Well what I usually do when I travel is find someone who looks interesting and non-touristy who appear like they have a great plan for their time and ask them what I should do...and then I do it."
Melessa wasn't so sure of my travel philosophy until we were sitting next to a gentlemen who ended up showing us an off the wall jazz restaurant to spend some time with wine and bleu cheese nachos and discussions of underlying personality types written on paper napkins. Then Melessa decided my philosophy was alright as all three of us gleaned and learned from each other about areas of our lives which were on our hearts and minds. That's how it sometimes with strangers, they come into your life for a reason.
Even if it's to simply say to you, "That which you resist, persists. So instead, surrender."
After our conversation, we all hugged and parted ways. Melessa and I shared a whoa that was crazy how he knew what we both needed affirmed as we crossed the street to meet up with fellow teachers from our district who were holding tables at Howl at the Moon, a piano bar which encourages dancing on the stage. In other words, my kind of place.
We went back there another night of our trip and I ended up running into people from New Zealand who I had met earlier that very same day by simply starting a conversation on the street which went something like this, "Raise your arms a bit. A bit higher. A bit higher. No even a bit higher." As I squeezed him in a hug. Imagine my surprise when I knocked a chair over at a table at Howl at the Moon and it happened to be the New Zealander with his publishing company friends. Small world sometimes.
We went back there another night of our trip and I ended up running into people from New Zealand who I had met earlier that very same day by simply starting a conversation on the street which went something like this, "Raise your arms a bit. A bit higher. A bit higher. No even a bit higher." As I squeezed him in a hug. Imagine my surprise when I knocked a chair over at a table at Howl at the Moon and it happened to be the New Zealander with his publishing company friends. Small world sometimes.
Small world which I love.
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