The Dharma Bum

"So subtly is the fume of life designed, to clarify the pulse and cloud the mind" - Edna St. Vincent Millay

Greetings and salutations dear readers. Sitting here with my Earl Grey tea, recuperating from the all day frenzy of the MTV campus invasion, my chance to sit down with the pop songstress (and fellow Journey fan) Bree Sharp, and the all out sensoury attacking performance by Moby, I had a moment of clarity. Now a column with a name like "The Dharma Bum" couldn't possibly live up to Uncle Jack's standards if there wasn't traveling involved. So I shall tell you the tale of my recent sabbatical in the windy city of Chicago - a tale of Irish pubs, caffeine salvation, moments of clarity, and good old fashioned street-side soliloquies.

The impetus for my trip to Chicago was one of the nations top Web Design/Internet Development conferences, WebChicago (where do they think of the names for these things?). The Southeast Missourian was gracious enough to send me up there and the conference itself was infinitely educational. The sessions on web design, HTML and XHTML were vastly informative and excitingly intriguing. I know, I know - some of you may be thinking how I can write so avidly of an encapsulation of technology when last time I was almost urging you to abandon your computers, chat rooms and other refinements? But my little soapbox last time proposed happy mediums, give and takes, and that's exactly what I did in Chicago, because my adventures outside of the conference is where it gets good - so here we go.

So I fly into Dante's fourth circle of Hell, otherwise known as O'Hare International Airport. Upon finally locating a shuttle source I catch a ride downtown, check into my hotel and finally relax. After jumping up and down on the beds, raiding the mini-bar, then jumping up and down on the beds with the contents of the mini-bar, I realised I had two choices. I could either be the mature and dedicated professional and start keeping track of my expenses, plan out my con-ference schedules for the next day and get a good nights sleep. Or I could go out and run around Chicago. Hmm. So I'm in Starbucks, conveniently located just down the street from my hotel. I ordered the biggest cup of coffee I could (regular coffee-flavoured coffee - yes, there is still such a thing), dumped my pound of sugar in the cup and began my journey.

I love big metropolitan cities because they calm me. I can relax in them. The hustle and bustle of the big city is cathartic for me. So much so because I've noticed myself lately being so amazed at the little things, things that some may not notice or even regard, little surrealities that amaze me. For instance, the second landmark I found myself drawn to was Timmy O'Toole's Irish Pub (shocking I know that I'd end up in an Irish pub - but hey, it's Chicago - I found 12 Irish pubs my first night.) So I'm at Timmy O'Toole's, which is heralded as one of downtown's finest Irish pubs, drinking a Guinness, in a completely Irish pub designed atmosphere, with a completely Hispanic staff and playing nothing but Motown and R&B music. God bless this melting pot of America that we live in.

Later that evening, after another trip to Starbucks and various matriculations around the downtown area, I found myself drawn to a lovely little establishment known as O'Callaghan's Pub, (honestly, I only went to these pubs for the sake of this column). I soon was engaged in conversation by an insurance agent named Bill who sort of reminded me of a live version of Ned Flanders, sans mustache. He asks the usual - where I'm from, what I'm doing in town. We talk of politics and such issues. He asks me if I have any biases, to which my reply is always "Only against stupid people". He even buys me a pint of Guinness - fine, that's awful nice of you Bill. Then he blurts out, "I'M NOT HITTING ON YOU!!" Okay... that's fine... can I drink my beer now? Even as he marveled at and touched all of the tattoos on my arms, fastidiously complimented me on my "good looks" (and my resemblance to a certain messiah), and almost giving me a hug when I made a funny, he would buy me a beer and every time the bartender set it down came that same mantra, "I'M NOT HITTING ON YOU!!".

Luckily enough my salvation came in the form of the lovely lass sitting next to me whom I could tell, had been listening the entire time, and quickly stole me away from Bill. Not that I didn't mind the free Guinness, but I think Bill had issues. And so I met Kim - a writer, waitress and actress (look for her somewhere in High Fidelity). Two nights later, in the same pub, almost in the same seat, I met a delightful woman named Adaiku -a bartender, writer and actress. Two nights, two conversations with two remarkable souls... that was almost the best part of my little sabbatical... almost.

The pinnacle, for me, was my last day there. A beautiful sunny day, I began walking along the Navy Pier back to my hotel. The Red Hot Chili Peppers in my cd player, superman size cup of coffee in my hand, just looking out over the Pier. Then it hit me - that moment of clarity, when for no apparent reason, everything seems so perfect. When you notice every little thing and the inherent beauty it possesses. That American Beauty-like epiphany when you realise that there is so much beauty in the world that you feel like your heart might not be able to take it. When every-thing just simply felt right, and for the first time (after starting out with a really lousy millennium) I felt happy. That was the pinnacle for me. Sappy - perhaps. Cheesy - possibly, but hey, mine is not to question why.

And so my sabbatical came to an end, but the time there was indeed well spent and much deserved, as the karmic gods smiled upon this existentially tattooed dharma bum. I've returned to my office, returned to my classes, and returned to my life here, but I still have my clarity. In case any of you were wondering, NO, I did not get any tattoos...I couldn't deduct it as a corporate expense. And so true believers I shall take my leave of you. So as the sun sets in the West, I bid you a fond farewell, from the bar of the Irish pub in my mind, seeking caffeine salvation from the Bills of the world. XXX