“Baja: The Experience”
2/17/17, “In
Memoriam”
John F.
Kennedy International Airport, New York
When I last
wrote, as I reached this Travelogue’s millionth word, I provided a rare insight
into how these entries are produced.
What I did not mention is how they are distributed. My Facebook post is one method of
distribution, but a select few people receive it directly by email. When I wrote that last entry, four people
were included on that email, but henceforth it will be one less, as one of the
members of that group has passed away since I last wrote. These “prologues”, as he called them, were
his favorite part, so it is only fitting that this one be written about him. It is in memory that this entry is dedicated.
It will be a mundane entry, and perhaps it
seems unworthy to dedicate such a mundane entry to such a great man, but he
understood that value of life was in its mundanity. To him, life in and of itself was something
that should be celebrated. It did not
matter if we achieved greatness, it only mattered if we achieved. It did not matter what we chose do with our
lives, so long as we chose to live, chose to create life, rather than to
destroy life. He understood Objectivism
in its purist form, even if he preferred to buy into his own version of the
philosophy.
Our last discussion was
about this very topic. He placed
community values above individual freedoms in many instances, and we would
debate that topic in great depth. We
were working together on a thesis about whether cultural values could override
moral norms, or if we needed to allow certain absolute moral principles that
overrode all cultural values. We both
could have argued either position at length, but we were deprived of our chance
to write our essay together on it. I
will continue that project in his name.
These were the mundane things about life that mattered to him, along
with a hot cup of coffee and good conversation, both of which we enjoyed
together numerous times. His name was
Eugene G. Schwartz, and he was a man who chose to live. For over 90 years, he chose to live. No trip to Southern California was complete
without a sharing a meal with him, and next month I will return there to honor
his memory, just as this prologue does.
This is the sixth time I am flying Aeromexico Flight 401, and, if the trip
goes well, it is the last time I will do so for many years to come. It is the fourth time I am meeting up with
Roberto in Mexico, and it is the seventh time I am journey to Mexico to see
World Heritage Sites. I aim to say “Mexico
Complete” this trip. If so, other than a
possible stop in Tijuana next month, I will have no need to return to Mexico
for quite some time. Usually I write something
here about the familiar within the unfamiliar and the unfamiliar within the
familiar, and, from 6 PM on, I did almost exactly the same thing as I did
during my last trip to Mexico. I will
get to that in turn.
There is not much
to report on Day 0. It was a very busy
day at the office, but I got my work done, and was out before 4 PM, which left
me plenty of time before my flight. Too
much time, in fact. Time enough to get
bored. I had my traditional
pre-departure lunch from Hop Won, but I had to eat at my desk, since I was so
busy. After work, I lit up an Oliva and
biked back to my apartment.
When I got
home, I discovered that my shower had backflowed, and there was a thick black
sludge in the basin. I tried to rinse it
out with a moderate amount of success. I
then backed up and transferred some files on my laptop and phone and went out
for dinner. At this point, from 6 PM on,
my actions almost exactly mirrored my previous trip to Mexico.
I went to CPK and got bread and butter and
seltzer to start, followed by crispy mac and cheese for an appetizer. For my pizza, I got garlic chicken on thin
crust. After dinner, I lit up a Cohiba,
and as I was about leave, the shower got worse, and my bathroom was now
flooding. The restaurant’s office was
also flooded, so one of the workers had to clear out the basin for both the
office and my shower. The bathroom will
require a bit of cleaning when I get back. I then walked up to the bus with the rest of my cigar, stopping at Duane
Reade to get some ibuprofen for my tooth, and waited for the 8:30 PM bus,
which, like last time, came around 8:45 PM.
I was at the airport by 9:30 PM, but there was a huge line for
security. There was only one station
open for some reason, and neither my business class ticket nor TSA PreCheck
afforded me any expedited entry. It was
a long wait, but I had plenty of time.
At 10 PM, they brought a dog and opened another two stations. I was through security ten minutes
later.
I then headed to the Air France
lounge and got some snacks and mixed myself a dry martini with half a measure
of vodka and two measure of gin, shaken not stirred, of course. I then sat down, where I proceeded to write
this entry, which I will now close so that I can publish and lounge around a
bit before my flight. When I send the
email, it will be hard remembering to not include the fourth name.
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