A Matter of Routine

St Louis, MO
January 17, 2018

Our flight to St Louis yesterday was delayed by an Ohio snowstorm and a broken de-icing nozzle that delayed the in-bound aircraft from Columbus.

Then, at the gate in Atlanta, fueling equipment needed to be replaced and an intoxicated couple, whose breath would have answered the purpose, needed to be removed from our 8am flight. Fortunately, efforts to extricate them, while involving some argument and a few slurred denunciations, warranted no YouTube footage.

Landing an hour late, we made our way thru a swirling flurry of snowflakes and a single degree of temperature to arrive, for the first time this year, at our office in Westport.

With the new year the place features several familiar challenges and fewer familiar faces. Throughout much of 2017 we navigated each day as if changing tires while the car was moving. With pedal dropping ever-closer to the metal and smoke rising steadily from the engine, we ascended the successively higher elevation, and progressively thinner air, of record quarterly earnings.

Then, in September, we crashed through the guardrail.

I think it was in the papers, but in event no aspiring Woodward and Bernstein sniffed it out, some Peeping Toms not only peered thru the Equifax bedroom window, but crawled thru it, rifled the drawers, and slipped out wearing the most sensitive undergarments of 150 million Americans.

From that day to this, focus shifted from climbing Everest to avoiding Vesuvius. Despite generally being successful doing so, the embers were nonetheless too thick and hot for some. Once the dawn of the new year guaranteed bonuses from the old, many long-time employees threw their pack over their shoulder, strode down the slope, and set forth seeking greener pastures.

Among them are several I have known well the seven years I have traveled to St Louis, and who made me feel very much at home at my home away from home.

At a good-bye happy hour last night, phone numbers were traded, glasses raised, and best wishes exchanged. Intentions to stay in touch were assured, but will no doubt be neglected in the vicissitudes of life.

Meanwhile, as the dust settles in the office, the hotel becomes my sanctuary of familiarity.

Even during the winter, a season of  welcome respite from recent riots, the Ritz-Carlton retains a warmth that consoles, even if it does not compensate, frequent absence from home.

This note comes from the lounge of its lobby, where I have become well acquainted with the hotel’s General Manager, many of its employees, and more than a few of its regular guests.

One older gentleman arrives at 6:50 each morning, pours his coffee, greets each employee by name, and settles into his prescribed seat to read the daily Post-Dispatch. He no doubt also drops emails to his extended family describing the perplexing spectacle of a slightly younger man who, with depressing regularity, camps in an adjoining seat and takes note of his daily routine.

On separate occasions the last couple months, Bob Costas and Jeffrey Toobin made appearances, while Dick Gephardt, man of the people, periodically pops in to focus intently on his phone while dismissively waving drink orders to his inconsequential waitress.

Earlier this evening, a couple from Baltimore recounted their childhood in Virginia, a week at Bandon Dunes, an evening at Berns Steak House, and an affinity for the Michigan Wolverines.

If they were running for Congress, making fine wine, and Sheriff of Navajo County they could have been our family.

Some examples are more pathetic.

For instance, several months back some poor schmuck sat planted right next to me at the bar for what must have been four hours!

Sad…

Being comforted by the rhythm of routine, I have carved a fairly predictable pattern that is immediately noticed whenever I return to this upholstered perch. The extended right hand the host offers on arrival each evening often holds a ready glass of Cabernet, while her left guides me to the quiet corner beside the fireplace, ideally situated to facilitate several hours of work, reading, or an appreciation of the passing scene.

The recipients of this email no doubt have wondered at these missives being part of my routine, and particularly why I occasionally feel compelled to make them part of theirs.

I honestly don’t know.

Perhaps it is no more complicated than that I enjoy being in the company of each one of you and this provides some semblance of being able to do that.

Hectic schedules, professional obligations, and vast distance conspire, understandably if unfortunately, to inhibit our ability (even if we had the desire) to gather with any frequency or regularity.

Katy’s terrific news last month offers a welcome opportunity to do so at the end of this year, with the added bonus that it is simultaneously an opportunity to add a new recipient to this email list!

If I were her, I would wait till after the wedding to break that news to him.

JD