Little Fish, Big River, Bigger City

Day 48: Blind Date 2.0

All day long I dreaded the upcoming evening while the new air-conditioner hummed away against the perfect warmth of spring. Before I knew it, it was nearly time to go. I procrastinated by hanging out with Euie, (pronounced "Yoo-EEE")our neighbor down the hall and her old classmate who was visiting from DC.

We discussed what I knew about the girl along with every reservation I had about doing this other than there might be a good story from yet another bad blind date. I know that she's from Cannes, France, complete with a French accent. She speaks French of course but also Italian, with English rounding out as a third language. I also know that she's lived in Hawaii and San Francisco and has been a fashion model despite having a law degree. She's blonde, tall at 5'11," and has green eyes. She recently lost a twelve year old dog to cancer which breaks my heart even before meeting this girl face to face. She's been scuba diving all over the world, loves New York and works somewhere in Soho in a French Boutique as a store manager. For now, we'll just call her "Elle."

She's also run an IronMan Triathalon for fun...that's a 2.4 mile swim, a 112 mile bike ride and a full 26.2 mile run to finish it off. In a nutshell, this woman is scarily overqualified for a chump like me. I need an "out" and life brings me one.

A good friend from Seattle is in the city for the weekend for a job interview and she's going out with friends and invited me along. My blind date is set for 8 p.m. and I set 9 p.m. as the time to meet my Seattle friend. I feel like I can get through an hour with a glass of wine and maybe an appetizer and be off before too much damage is done, knowing full well that this just isn't going to work for either of us but the "trying" is what is important here.

At 7:30 my phone rings. It's Elle. The lock on her store is broken and she can't close until the locksmith fixes it so that the merchandise is safe for the night. She calls back at 8 to say that the locksmith is still working on it and she doesn't know when he'll be done. I want to get this over with so I offer to come to the store with some wine from Argentina which I brought back with me. It's a tactful, surgical strike: I'll meet her, have a drink, be polite and run off to meet my other friend, in time for the 9 p.m. relay.

Oddly, she agreed to my offer. I take a deep breath, kiss my dog goodbye and bravely walk out the door, down West 21st and grab a cab on 7th Avenue. The cabbie turns out to be a writer, too. He has scripts in with major TV producers for a new series. I'm in awe and embarassed at my lack of ambition toward my own writing of late. I'm letting me dream slip away for no reason other than fear of never making it which is coming true out of simply not writing.

The cab driver is a goldmine of personality and he tells me all kinds of stories about dating in New York and how if one wished, he could go through beautiful women faster than underwear. I don't wish.

As we arrive at the Soho store front, he looks in and asks...

"Is THAT her?"

"Yea, that appears to be her..." I reply while gazing through twenty foot tall glass windows at an elegant woman, idly flipping through an oversized magazine while casually perched on top of the store counter like a movie starlet, perfectly posed with long legs, gently crossed and draping over the side toward the shimmering white floor as what appears to be a rainforest soars up through the ceiling behind her.

"Holy shit. Well done, my man!" the cabbie is more excited than I am at this point since he's not the one about to be politely dismissed by the waiting mademoiselle. I pay and climb out, wine tucked away in the crook of my arm like a running back heading for the end zone. I look up and down the street, weighing my options for getting out of bounds. I decide to be brave and walk to the door.

She greets me with a smile and sparkling eyes as she apologizes with oozing "zee's" and "zaa's" that only the French can master, making English a prettier language than it really deserves to be. In parallel fashion, this creature before me is prettier than I deserve to be with...but I'm here and I'll take my lumps and get to the next stage in Saturday night.

Her employee returns from getting food nearby at "Felix" restaurant on West Broadway. I stroll about the store while they go upstairs to fetch glasses and cutlery. I think about being "nice" and buying a pair of jeans from her little boutique. I check the price - $600. Hhmmm.

I think twice about being "nice." I spy what must be an affordable little tshirt nearby. I check the price - $187. I decide that I'm not that nice and I'll just stick to opening the wine when they return. Within minutes, a full restaurant-like spread is set out: plates, wine glasses, cutlery, folded napkins and French food. We take our places on little changing room leather stools and begin the awkward conversations while the locksmiths continue to bang and pound and swear at the twenty foot tall door with the broken lock that won't lock.

I feel a bit like a fish out of water. I'm wearing $19 jeans, $25 loafers, a $15 shirt, and a $20 leather jacket that has more rips in the lining than a tattered curtain blowing in the window of an old west ghost town. I wish I could be a ghost and disappear right now but I stand my ground. She keeps smiling at me while answering the phone when Paris headquarters calls her to discuss. At least she's polite. I marvel at the sound of quickly spoken French while keeping an eye on the time as my planned escape time nears.

My phone rings. It's my friend. They just sat down to dinner and it's going to be awhile so I have to hold off on meeting up. Damn. I'm somewhat stuck, but since the door still isn't working and I haven't been thrown out yet, I decide to keep sipping wine and eating flaky pastry crusted spinach stuff.

Eventually, the locksmiths give up and decide to just wrap a heavy chain around the handles for the night. It's now 11 p.m. and my friend calls to say they're at a little bar called, "Charbon" nearby. As politely as I can, I walk with Elle. I assume she's just looking for a cab to take her home as she needs to be back at 9 a.m. for the returning locksmiths. I tell her that I need to go and see a friend from Seattle and ask her if she'd like to join us, knowing full well that she won't.

She says she'd love to come along.

Now I'm stuck. What the hell is she doing? That was her perfect out, served up on a silver platter and she just ignored it. Next thing I know, we're in a cab headed to Charbon. We hop out, I pay the cabbie and we start walking toward the little bar. As we approach, I think...

"Okay, this is the deal killer here...it's packed to the gills with people jammed in like miscellaneous Q-tips in evening wear. Loud music is vibrating through the windows and is audible even at 25 yards away. There's no way she's going to want to go into this place. No way in hell..."

"Oh! I love IT!" she exclaims as she bounces to the beat before reaching the door.

"What?!!!! Really? Are you KIDDING me???" I'm shocked. How on earth could she love what appears to be the loudest, most crowded bar I've seen in the last twelve months?

We fight our way inside and it takes a full fifteen minutes to just get ten feet to the bar for a drink. She asks the bartender if they have "Get" (pronounced "Jet" like the plane.) They do and I order two of them. While we're waiting, she's bouncing like the Energizer bunny to ear-splitting 80's remixes. We take our drinks and toast to nothing. I take a sip. It takes like spearmint gum on ice and its incredibly refreshing. We find my friend at the back of the bar and sit down at the table after introductions.

My friend tells me that a guy she just met asked her to some club after hours party where this DJ "Fat Slim Guy" or something is playing.

"Fatboy Slim????!!!!" I exclaim in disbelief.

"Yea!!! That's him!" she replies.

"Geez yes, I'm going...I love his stuff and have all of his CD's!!!!" I turn to Elle and ask if she'd like to go, thinking that this surely will be the undoing.

"Oui! I'll go to hear zis for an hour!" she screams above the Go-Go's while bouncing up and down on her chair in time with the thumping bass. My jaw drops. Who on earth is this beautiful, lithely, bouncing, smiling thing who seems to be enjoying herself to the fullest after a fifteen hour day at work...and what on earth is she doing hanging out with me?

Suddenly, it all became clear to me.

My blind date, must truly be blind.

ZeNYC: People don't see you as you are on the inside...people see you as THEY are on the inside.

ESB: Oops. I blindly overlooked the color tonight.

AxL-O-Meter: 6 - it's almost spooky how much better he's doing since acupunture. He actually has "energy" about him as he trots along now instead of moving as if each step is his last.

Dream Dial: 0 - Writing screenplays is officially on hold until July.

Heart Rate: 1 - Blind-sided by a blind date who will surely be gone once she opens her eyes.

Day 47: I'm Not Gay

AxL slept straight through the night and we woke up around 6:30 a.m. for a beautiful morning stroll as birds sang overhead. Life is good and I'm looking forward to "getting to work" in my new job again today. I don't know where it will lead, but that's the beauty of life.

I also didn't know where today would lead as I went about getting into little rituals again: trying to get AxL to eat his medicine, showering and walking the four steps back to "my office" which is nothing more than my laptop perched on a box against a window with a view of the Empire State Building.

We made our rounds at lunchtime, visiting the Blue Sky Salon and saying hello to the girls there, filling them in on the trip to Buenos Aires as well as giving an AxL-puncture update from yesterday.

I don't know where the day really went, but I don't really care. I just know where it ended - at Maria's - in my normal spot on her 2nd futon couch where I've spent many an hour having great conversations with her while Cha-Cha pings himself around the apartment while AxL does his best to steal kitty-kibble.

Somehow the conversation was politely and gently landed on the subject of me...like a mysterious feather landing on your finger from out of the sky.

"So..............." she started.

"Yea?............" I replied.

"Some people I know ah asking and I just thought I would, well, ya know...let ya know just in case because, um, well...uh..." Maria's Maine accent was tap-dancing around the feather that just landed.

"I'm totally lost..." I reply, totally lost.

"Well, um, you just have this way about you, that uh, well...are you gay?" She blurted as the feather was whisked off, swirling into the air.

"HA! No...geez...not that there's anything wrong with that...but dear God, no. If there's one thing I know, it's THAT." I laugh, wondering where all this came from.

It came from the fact that I guess I don't act like some Testosterone driven frat-boy, I used to figure skate, I'm NICE, I live in Chelsea, I guess I use the word "fantastic" too often instead of the word "cool" pronounced in a grunt like a typical American Male would. And...all of her friends for some reason seem to think that I'm gay. They've obviously not seen my apartment and more than straight, non-decorating job I've done.

So, thank God, just 24 hours before my next dreaded blind date, I get the advice of a lifetime that I might wish to "adjust" what I say, how I say it, etc. to a degree.

Maria is a godsend. I'm floored that all this time I'm walking around, blabbing away thinking everything is cool, totally unaware that it's just assumed that I'm gay by everyone I come into contact with.

I decide to set out a plan to regain my manhood-straightness. I'm going to start with not cancelling tomorrow's blind date. I'm going to slouch when I sit, I'm going to dress more like a slob, and I'm removing adjectives beginning with "F" and "S" from my vocabulary - fantastic, fabulous, super, spectacular...

I'm also going to increase my usage of "Yo" as a greeting instead of "It's so nice to see you again..."

It's funny to me when I think about it all...for some reason, gay men seem to be attracted to me to the degree that I'm constantly "hit on" while just trying to get through my day in the neighbah-hood. No wonder...I always wished that women would find me as attractive as gay guys did...if that were the case, I'd be making the "Top 50 Most Eligible Bachelor's" list published in People magazine each year instead of reading with great hope only to find year after year, I'm mysteriously missing from the ranks.

It's Friday night and we're out of beer so I head to the corner store to restock for the rest of our conversation. I get a six-pack of half Miller Lite for Maria and half Budweiser (THE KING of beers and American Male-dom) for myself.

We spend a couple more hours laughing and joking about as I slouch down as far as possible on her couch while drinking straight from the bottle instead of using the glass offered. Screw manners, I'm a guy. There's something fantast..er...COOL about drinking beer from the bottle while the label slowly escapes as the condensation kisses the glue goodbye. Hopefully, I can kiss the label people have placed on me goodbye, too.

Yo, time for bed.

ZeNYC: A good heart gathers true friends.

ESB: White. A beacon of hope for a guy just chasing a dream and trying to get by as best he can despite what others think, yo.

Dream Dial: 0 - writing is on indefinite hold.

AxL-O-Meter: 6 - The acupuncture seems to have stopped his incessant circular AxL-circus pacing and he now sleeps peacefully for most of the day. Additionally, his "droopy" left eye seems to be less droopy looking. Perhaps this stuff really does work.

Heart Rate: 1 - I'm determined to not cancel my blind date tomorrow no matter how much I want to. I know I won't find love again, but I might find a good friend and one can never have too many.

Day 46: Dog-u-puncture

The plane touches down safely on the tarmac of JFK. I collect my two small bags and depart with the red-eyed throng. It was a great flight without sleep. I read two and a half books and watched "Duplex" starring Ben Stiller and Drew Barrymore.

I find a cab at the very stop where I caught a cab a year and a half ago as I flew through New York before departing on my cross-country bike ride. This time, no one pushes me around and I get one right away. It's a perfect morning including bumper to bumper traffic which I don't mind since I'm still nose-deep into "Angels & Demons."

Life is full of perfect timing to the degree that coincidences are so predictable that they really aren't coincidences. As the cab stops and I step out, Madeleine and Cody are precisely at this exact spot during their morning walk. Even better, Mr. AxL is with them and greets me warmly. I run my bags upstairs, race back down and Madeleine fills me in on all of AxL's antics that she didn't email me photos of. It seems that just the presence of Cody seems to have helped his outlook in life to a huge degree. He's about to get another boost, thanks to ancient Chinese medicine.

AxL and I arrive at Heart Of Chelsea veternary clinic for the "countlessthed" time since moving here in February. We go into a side room after weighing in at a measly 57 pounds. Dr. Siebert gently puts some long, thin needles into AxL's rear toes as he dances about. The assistant, Amy, tries to hold him still while he does a great rendition of a "doggie-hoe-down" to the invisible sound of a banjo playing "Thank God, I'm a Country Boy." Next, needles are placed what appears to be clear through his skin between his back tendons and his leg bone. I wince. AxL's looks sleepy. He takes a couple more needles in the back and in the front paws, the vet dims the lights and leaves Amy acting as Axl-scaffolding for ten minutes while I sit on a stool and we chat about tennis.

The ten minutes pass by quickly and after forking over $90 and making an appointment for next week, we're on our way. He doesn't seem to be any different upon departure until we get home. He meanders to a corner and promptly falls asleep. I set about getting into my new job, reading as much information online as I can about the company's products while going through my rolodex to see who we might work with.

I hear snoring coming from the corner. Ten hours later, he wakes up. I'm amazed, it's the first long sleep he's had since I can remember. Speaking of sleep, it's now Thursday evening and I've not had any since Tuesday night.

I visit Maria and Cha-Cha The Cat briefly to catch up on everything. I'll be catsitting Mr. Cha-Cha for the next week while Maria goes on family vacation to Florida. I can't remember the last time I "cat-sat" but figure I'm up to the task.

If he gets out of hand, I know where to take him for "Cat-u-puncture." (Moo-ha-ha-haaa.)

ZeNYC (prounounced "Zen-why-See," as in "NYC with some Zen" sprinkled in it.) This is a new category which replaces "Day Job Panic" now that there is no longer "Day Job Panic." I'll be plucking out "soft and peaceful" Zen-ish observations from life in a hardly peaceful city. Today's entry: Little needles, big difference, old dog, new again.

ESB: White...again, again, again...perhaps I didn't miss much during my trip.

Dream-Dial: In all honesty, my writing is not...nor will it be for the next couple of months so this is coming off for awhile.

AxL-O-Meter: 6 - After his first acupuncture treatment, his energy seems to be re-aligning itself. Perhaps I'll even give acupuncture a whirl one of these days just to see what happens.

Heart Rate: 1 - I'm back with my wonderful dog and feeling more at "home" here in this city that I grow to love more and more each day. It's alive and so am I, even though pieces of me feel dead as stone inside, I've got a smile on the outside, a roof over our heads and blessings seem to find us in our little shoe-box apartment.

Day 45: Kissing Culture

I woke up early, showered and got dressed. For the first time in my life, I realized that I packed the perfect amount of items for a trip. I had barely anything, but brought the exact amount to wear for each day while also bringing the perfect items to wear in terms of weather, the office, etc. Perhaps I've finally got this travel thing down.

I skipped breakfast once again since I'm still full from Monday's all you can eat lunch. I check out at the desk, give the manager regards from a girl in my office and I go outside to wait for the limo. "Leo" my new driver isn't there. I spy a wine shop across the street and go in to purchase some gifts to take back home.

As I return, Leo has arrived and is waiting apologetically as he's thirty minutes late. We race to the office and this time, I'm able to pass through the security check on my own, being my third day and all.

I find a place on the "sandwiched" middle floor and turn on my laptop. As it boots up, I notice other people coming into the office. A guy walks up and kisses a girl on the lips.

"Hhm...they must be dating." I figure. Then it dawns on me...this is the same guy who kissed a different girl yesterday. I guess he gets around. Another guy comes in, he kisses another guy on the cheek. I guess the gay thing is all good down here, too.

I plug away with reading, etc. until it's "sacred lunch" time and I'm invited out again with the boss. We head back to "Siga La Vaca." Once again, I try everything, despite knowing what it is because first, it all had such an interesting taste to it that I just needed to try and put my finger on it one more time and second, I don't know when I'll ever be able to say, "yea, i ate tonsils for lunch." I end up trying something new called, "sweetbread" which is not bread at all...it's cow pancreas.

Okay then.

We finish lunch amidst the raucous celebration of what appears to be some high school soccer teams who end up singing a version of "happy birthday" to one of their members.

I waddle back to the car and take one more look out at the Rio Plata's 150 mile wide rippling surface dotted with large tankers on the horizon. I think about the fact that if I could ride a bike across from shore to shore, it would take me all day, two days if I had a trailer full of gear.

Back at the office, I sit down next to one of the technician's to go over some more technology that's being developed. As I sit there, some of the employees come back from lunch and the kissing begins again...only no one is kissing who they kissed in the morning. It dawns on me that it's a simple cultural greeting like in Europe...a kiss on each cheek in France, three in Switzerland, if I recall correctly. Now it all makes sense that the office isn't full of two-timing boyfriends and gay lovers...just good friends saying hello. I chuckle while calling myself an idiot for my assumptions.

I wrap up the day just as Leo reaches the front desk to announce my ride to the airport is ready. I bid farewell to my new friends and coworkers but I opt out of kissing anyone goodbye. "Kurttila" is departing back to NY.

We meander through traffic and make it just in time for me to check in, pay my airport tax and go through security before reaching my gate. I dive into "Angels & Demons" by Dan Brown, author of "The Da Vinci Code," a wildly popular book and the "sequel" to Angels & Demons. I board my flight around 10 p.m. and begin my eleven hour, all night flight back to my city and more importantly, my dog. When I see him, I'll definitely kiss him on the cheek although I'm sure he'd rather have some Argentinian cow tonsils that taste like chicken.

Day Job Panic: Time to figure out what to call this now that I've got a new "family" that I've joined for my next working adventure.

AxL-O-Meter: 5 - As far as I can tell, he's actually had a great time hanging out with Cody the husky while I was gone. I think that he misses having Venus around and the dog-friendship has brightened his spirits from the emailed photos I've seen.

ESB: No clue.

Dream Dial: 0 - I will likely be giving up on writing for awhile as I settle into my new job and eventually get a groove worked out.

NYC Degree: 5 - I had an amazingly fun time in Buenos Aires and saw a new part of the world...a new city, a new country, crossing the equator for the first time, new foods, new friends, new job, etc. etc. etc.

Heart Rate: 0 - my life seems to be finally coming together overall in most every area. I really don't need anyone else at this point and am finding a comfortable groove in solitude.

Day 44: Picture This

I slept like a rock, or perhaps it was more like a large stone, if they do indeed sleep at all. Nine hours straight without the sound of Mr. AxL clicking about hardwood floors, panting, falling over, knocking about...

It was lonely but blissful to recharge my internal batteries.

I power-showered one more time, tossed on a semblance of casual office clothing, raced passed the expansive breakfast in the lobby and out the door into the smiling welcome of "Igor" the limo driver. He had a special treat for me this morning. On our way to the office, he took several short detours through the park, back and forth across the skirt of the city, showing monuments, huge art sculptures, famous houses, the IBM building, etc. Through rough English and my lacking Spanish, I believe I absorbed about 77.86% of the verbal tour, including the horse racing track, golf club, and polo field complete with all encompassing grandstands.

I filled my camera while draining the battery.

I arrived at the office and took pictures of the glass walls, desks and human occupants, floors, ceilings, etc.

I worked my way through a morning of reading about the company's technologies, clients, etc. As I neared my mental capacity, I fired up my laptop which automatically attached itself to the wireless network in the paperless office. I checked my email...

Madeliene had sent me photos of AxL who despite my biggest fears, was actually THRIVING by being in the company of Cody the fourteen year-old Husky. Her email assured me that not only was he doing great, but that he was practically running down the street at times. "Running" of course, is a relative term but comparatively speaking...AxL was running.

I'm overjoyed at the news when I'm invited out to lunch by three employees. We set out and land at a small cafe nearby while the CFO explains how much he loves his car and that he drives even one block to return a rented movie. Now that I live in New York, I don't quite understand the thrill of cars any longer. In fact, I view them as a nuisance of which I no longer have any need.

Lunch, once again is filled with large portions of grass-fed Argentinian beef and is ended with espresso. The cafe is filled with beautiful, exotic looking people and cigarette smoke drifting up through the sunrays beaming in from overly tall windows reaching the twenty-foot ceiling.

We head back to the office as I fight off food-coma one more time. I busy myself with more learning through the rest of the day while sipping tea in the late afternoon.

In the evening, I'm invited once again to dinner in the "hip" part of town. My limo driver picks me up around 8 p.m. and expertly lands me at the restaurant indicated on my scrap of paper. My co-workers are not there so I take some time to walk past the other places lining the cobble-stoned street. Cars are parked bumper to bumper. I was told that drivers leave their cars in neutral so that they can be gently pushed closer to other cars to maximize parking space in an unofficial form of courtesy for everyone.

As I walk along, my attention is caught by several super-model-looking blondes and I remind myself one more time that I'm not in Europe...Buenos Aires is its own world...and a amazing one at that.

Even the men are in a class all their own, wearing blazers and looking as if they just stepped off the cover of GQ Magazine.

Dinner turns out to be a mix of sushi and other fares in a restaurant/bar/club that is filled with red light, making me feel as if I should be developing photos instead of dining.

The night ends and my limo driver happily drives me back through to the other end of the city to Hotel Joustens as I marvel at the brightly lit monuments rising up through the late night traffic.

My bed welcomes me but I'm not tired so I dive into "The Automatic Millionaire" and read it cover to cover in one sitting before retiring.

As I fall asleep, I say some prayers thanking God that AxL is somehow hanging in there...the pictures of his happy face dance about my brain nearly two full continents away from the furry little angel.

I suddenly remember to check the rotation of water going down the drain and I hop out of bed to flush the toilet. It seems to be turbo-powered so the water goes down in an explosion rather than in a swirl. I fill the sink and try again without any success since the drain seems to suck the water out forcefully without any heed to reverse whirlpools. I guess it will remain a mystery for another time, another drain.

Day Job Panic: Might be time to change this to simple "Day Job Update" as the panic is seemingly over now.

AxL-O-Meter: 5 - Hanging with Cody despite my traveling has only had a positive effect on his spirits. I realize how wrong I was to give up little Venus in that I'm sure he misses his cute little friend of the past year.

Dream Dial: 0 - I'm worried how I'll balance out work and dreams in the future but hope to somehow make the most of both. Until then, I'm keeping a roof over my head and then some which at the moment, is more important than anything.

ESB: No clue, but my guess is, it's white.

NYC Degree: 8 - Thoroughly enjoying the trip to this amazing city called Buenos Aires which has some of New York's flavor to it amidst the other cultural influences that make it truly unique.

Heart Rate: 1 - I'm dreading yet another blind date this upcoming Saturday and begin to figure out good and viable excuses for keeping it short as it's sure to be disastrous.

Day 43: Clearly Paperless

I'm in a small limo, flying down a highway from the Buenos Aires airport toward the city. The buildings are completely foreign and nothing like I've seen elsewhere. Apartments on the hem of the city are tall and thin, as if they are bodies that have been stretched by a funhouse mirror. I imagine the residents inside, walking through their living rooms by side-stepping if on a ledge so they can move about their narrow domiciles.

I've been expecting another version of Mexico but as we navigate through the city streets of downtown, I'm in another world entirely. No one looks Mexican. Everyone looks European...and Spanish...and kind of German and French all mixed together like some strange fusion...as if Claudia Schiffer and Antonio Banderas had enough offspring to fill a city.

The architecture matches the beauty of the inhabitants set in an almost Northern California landscape complete with palm trees and enormous grassy parks filled with flowering shrubs and a plethora of bronze statues.

I feel like I'm back in Europe except for the sun and palms...as if two worlds I know collided and melted into one another.

My hotel turns out to be across the street from Marianna's office address printed on the business card she gave me. Another strange coincidence. The room is nothing short of exquisite. I drop my things, wash my face, take a "power-shower" and change into fresh clothes then dart back out to the waiting driver outside the light green, sliding glass doors of Hotel Jousten.

He drives me to the office of my new employer. The trip takes about twenty minutes through gorgeous tree-lined streets amid richly styled homes and office buildings. We drive along a park that stretches nearly the length of the city. It's filled with dogs and dog walkers. I like this place. The dog seems to have a high social status here. I think of AxL as I see one old sheep dog tied to a low-hanging tree branch on a thirty-foot long leash. He's simply sitting in the shade, relaxing while younger dogs wrestle and bark.

I arrive at the office and the limo driver helps me navigate through the double-door-security camera system which is reminiscent of an airlock in a futuristic movie. Immediately inside, I know I'm going to dig this.

Ten tv screens set inside the wall are blinking with MTV styled images. I'm greeted warmly by an attractive receptionist. She has a way of saying "Hola" with a slight tilt of her head and a grin that leaves me wondering if this is the normal greeting a flirtatious "hello."

I meet the founder of the company, a big, happy man with a gray beard and bright blue eyes set about a comforting smile..."Welcome to the fam-a-lee!" I feel at home in this faraway place. I get a tour of the offices that have glass walls, glass staircases, glass ceilings, glass desks, glass tables hanging from the ceiling by thin cable wires. Something is missing, but I'm not sure what. Later, I'm told the office is "paperless" and it hits me. All the desks and walls have dry-erase pen marks and yes, I mean, "no" there is no paper about.

After the tour and introductions to more names and faces than I can remember, I'm walked through the different technologies that aren't on the market yet. Then it's time for "lunch."

Of late, I've not been a big eater. The founder tells me that he's taking me to a special place for lunch and that lunch is SACRED. By his girth, I know he's not exaggerating. As we drive along, he tells me some facts about Argentina as my mind reels...#1 in exporting this...#2 in that, #5 in this, #1 in that. It's an enormous country where 80% of the population lives in Buenos Aires. It sits on the banks of the Rio Plata which in some places is some 200 miles wide. The restaurant where we eat looks over the river but it's only 150 miles wide at this point. It's hard to imagine a river that is wider than several of the fifty states in the Union back home.

We walk into "Siga La Vaca" which roughly translated means "Go With The Cow." I would soon learn the real meaning. For $7 US, it's all you can eat. My boss takes me up to a gigantic indoor grill where the chefs are semi-visible behind the smoke-wall flying up from the coals as an overhead fan sucks the gray swirls out through the roof.

He begins ordering from the chefs for me after explaining that I'm new to Argentina. In a minute, I have a large platter with about ten different grilled meats on it. We take our seats after circumnavigating the salad bar. I'm given the history of the company while I try different things on my plate ranging from what appears to be a very soft type of chicken breast to incredible side-cut beef ribs. I'm asked after each bite if I like the item...

Eventually, I'm told what I've been eating - blood sausage, chorizo, ribs, back, neck, tonsils, intestines. Cow TONSILS????? Yes, cow tonsils. They look and taste like chicken...only better somehow.

I'm ordered two desserts which are unbelievable...soft pears covered in a dark sauce and crepes with an apple-caramel syrup. Both are like nothing I've ever had but would love to have again.

I can barely walk as we leave to head back to the office. I'm literally "going with a cow" in my stomach as I've consumed more beef products in one lunch than I've had in sum total the past two years.

Back at the office, it's more of the same as I try to wrap my brain around the top secret project I'll be helping to get going soon. I end up sitting in the middle floor with feet walking over the glass above my head as I sit looking down on the tops of heads below my own feet. So far, I've only walked into one glass wall that I didn't see.

The day ends, I'm driven back to my hotel where I dive back into "The Alchemist" and finish it just as Laura and Silvi arrive to take me out to dinner. It's a great book that I thorougly enjoy as I feel as if I'm on a parallel journey in search of treasure at this point in life.

The three of us head to a sushi restaurant on a small inlet lined with boats and stunning new buildings including a massive white tent that aspires toward the dark sky. It's a nightclub, but it's Monday so we'll just be dining before retiring. Considering I'm running on two hours of sleep since Saturday morning, I'm not disappointed. In case lunch wasn't enough, we order "all you can eat sushi" and I end up eating "all I can eat," surprised that I can eat at all after today's cow lunch.

I've tried learning as much Spanish as I can and oddly, it's not too different from French and I can sort of get by, only understanding a few key words from high-velocity sentences spinning out of people's mouths. It's a pretty language, and sexy...the antithesis of German...and much "hotter" than the alluring sound of French.

I barely make it to my room as food coma sets in for the second time in twelve hours. I pass out, bloated, happy and distant from home, wondering if AxL is still with me on this huge planet. I wonder how he made out with three dog walkers: Maria in the morning, Madeleine and Tom and Cody the Husky during the day, and roomie-JP at night.

Day Job Panic: 0 - I love my new "fam-ah-lee" and the futuristic feel of the headquarters of the company I now work at. We'll see if I can make it work as there are definitely risks with the project I'll be trying to pull together.

AxL-O-Meter: No clue...but I'm hoping no news is good news.

Dream Dial: 0 - writing will definitely suffer now that I'm working but somehow, I feel as if I'm living out as a character in my own real-life movie.

ESB: No Clue as well...but the lights of Buenos Aires range the full spectrum.

NYC Degree: 9 - It's not New York, but Buenos Aires is an amazing city with a welcome feel to it...and I've yet to be mugged or lose my passport to unemployed criminals trying to get by in a recovering economy.

Heart Rate: 1 - new adventures in faraway places are good for the soul.

Day 42: Goodbye New York...

I'm awake two hours after going to sleep. It's dog walking time at 7 a.m.-ish. I only have to stand up and grab Mr. AxL's leash since I'm still fully dressed from getting in around 5 from "The Social Club" where I was hanging out with Susan and Tenley. As we get outside, I can tell it's going to be a perfectly warm day. The kind of day where one buys an air conditioner before it gets too hot and you can't find one to buy...and if you do find one, the price is double what you can pay early in the season.

I have given up coffee since I just can't seem to stand the taste of it any longer so our morning walk is missing the element of me burning my tongue on House Coffee from The Big Cup. I save $2.40 and the lives of several taste buds. It's a good start.

In my head I start going through everything I need to do before leaving for Buenos Aires...clothes, passport, pen, books...iPod...camera...floss.

Eventually, nothing much happens until JP is up and the three of us are off to find an air conditioner. We take her luggage cart which carried her coffin-sized suitcase and head to "Best Buy" where I purchase the smallest, cheapest "GoldStar 8k Series Model #BG800ER." It sets me back $217.44 with tax but I also get 8 free weeks of Entertainment Weekly which I need to cancel before I'm charged for a subscription. We retrieve AxL from where he's watching Animal Planet on the Plasma TV's before departing the store and working our way back home with a huge box tied with string to the luggage cart.

JP takes off to do a "dry run" on the subway to find her new office before her first day at work. I set about installing my first air conditioner. I'm stymied. The directions don't match the parts very well and nothing makes sense. I toss the directions, end up buying new parts at the hardware store and a good six hours later, the machine is humming away in the window as I play with the remote control. Not that you need a remote control for an air conditioner in a shoebox sized apartment, but hey...any remote control is cool.

I look at the time...I have about an hour to catch a cab and get to JFK by 8 pm for my 10 pm flight. I scribble down three sets of instructions on walking/feeding and the various idiosyncrasies of AxL the dog, including his veterinarian's address and phone number and my numbers in Argentina. One set for JP, one for Maria and one for Madeliene, Tom and Cody The Husky a few buildings down on West 21st. My biggest concern is AxL will get depressed when I leave and just fade off into la-la land.

I now have 15 minutes until I need to catch a cab and I haven't packed. I'm going to do it right this time. I grab a shirt, jeans, slacks, toiletries, camera, passport, laptop, books, iPod, socks, underwear and I'm done with only two small carry-on bags. This will be one of the longest flights I've ever taken yet it's the lightest I've ever packed. I race out the door and tackle a cab on 7th Ave. As we race out of the city and cross the bridge, I look out the back window at a stunning sunset that hugs the city warmly. I hug her with my eyes as long as I can.

I'm still not sure if I've chosen the right job out of the two offers I had yet. I try to tell myself that there is no "right or wrong" but merely choices and you do the best you can and take it from there. At the airport, I'm standing in line when a familiar face lands a couple of people behind me. It's a shaved head with a scraggly goatee on the chin of a young-ish kid wearing bright blue "aqua-sock" tennis shoes. Weird. I ran into him wearing the same weird shoes last Monday on West 20th Street while walking AxL. He stopped me to ask what kind of dog I had. What are the odds that he would be at the airport a week later in line at the same airline?

About thirty minutes later as I'm sitting at the gate, he walks up and sits two seats down. Double weird that "Mr. weird-shoe fuzz-chin" is on the same flight. I decide that it's nothing more than a sign that I'm "on course" in some way but there's no need to talk to this kid. It's just a coincidence.

Finally, the flight boards, I take my seat and get back into "The Alchemist" which I'm part way through. Before I get too far, a very pretty young girl sits down next to me. It's the first time I've ever been seated next to an attractive stranger on a flight in my life. I normally am next to 400 pound men wearing polyester oozing body odor...the kind of person who chews with their mouth open while they talk to you about their cousin's wedding in Akron for the entire flight.

Before I get too far into my book, "Marianna" begins talking in very broken English/Spanish. She's adorably tireless in a verbal way as she spends the next ten hours and forty-seven minutes telling me everything she can about Argentina. We trade business cards and I try to trade stories with her, but it's difficult to get any words in from my angle. I give up and listen...and learn.

Don't carry my camera about. Don't carry my passport, don't wear my NY baseball hat in public, it might get lifted...unemployment is rampant...crime is rampant...Argentina, particularly Buenos Aires can be dangerous as people mug you for just being foreign and ignorant, not in that order.

Somewhere in the middle of the morning, I cross the equator for the first time and make a mental note to check if water actually goes down the drain in the opposite direction once I arrive.

Penguins live only a couple hours south from Buenos Aires...my brain becomes too full of Marianna's rolling "R's" and Spanglish...I can't absorb any thing else so I go numb and smile and nod until we land at 8 a.m. in Buenos Aires on a perfect Monday.

Day Job Panic: 0 - I've arrived at my new job and will soon find out what the heck I'm supposed to be doing.

AxL-O-Meter: 3 - He seems to be okay as I said goodbye and I hope that he doesn't decide to check out during my trip. I'm prepared for the worst.

ESB: Unknown

Dream Dial: 0 - I have a feeling that writing is going to suffer for a bit as the result of the new job.

NYC Degree: 7 - between having a new roommate, buying an air-conditioner and seeing one of the most incredible sunsets ever, I realize how very much I love living in this city where anything can happen...and usually does.

Heart Rate: 0 - why bother? I'm rededicating myself to eventually sailing around the world alone, climing mountains, walking on every continent, swimming in every sea once before my days are done.