Neuspeh Tour Part 9: Denouement

All of these lines across my face, tell you the story of who I am
So many stories of where I've been, and how I got to where I am
Oh, but these stories don't mean anything, if you've got no one to tell them to

All stories eventually have an ending. The best stories aren't abrupt. They close at least some of the loose ends, visualize consequences, and imagine futures. Even bleak films, like the apocalyptic The Road, have endings. (The Road was mostly filmed in Western Pennsylvania, because it offered an array of post-apocalyptic scenery: coalfields, Pittsburgh, windswept dunes, abandoned highway.)

Not all stories are as bleak. For instance, the Tour de France has a joyful final stage. There's racing, but as a criterium, it's very difficult to change the final standings. Leaders can pose for the cameras and share congratulations. My Sunday in Paris was the 2010 final stage, and I thought about watching. In the end, though, I didn't want to pay $200 for reserved seating. I also didn't want to stand alone for 2 hours, trying to hold decent viewing position. I did stay for the caravan.

8 August: Delta 1734 YVR 1200 - ATL 1958

When I checked plane loads on Thursday, this plane was close to full, which could lead to lucrative opportunities. I didn't have to be back in Louisville for a few more days, so I was ready to trade time for travel credits. The checkin agent was very pleased that I asked to volunteer, even with a checked bag. We placed a little "Volunteer" tag on the case, and I went through to wait. From looking in the waiting area, there were a lot of cruise ship passengers looking to head back to jobs and lives, and almost all of them checked in. Score! That meant $600 in Delta travel credits, food vouchers, and twelve hours in the terminal. Actually, it meant 12 hours in the main terminal, since the overnight flight boarded in a different spot. Since I had to carry my large bag around until overnight checkin, I wandered around the airport. If you're in such a situation at YVR, I suggest the Canadian terminal food court. There's a plane viewing area and a good supply of power plugs. I edited some of this report and sent several emails to people I'd been neglecting.

I also went to Mass at the airport. To Catholic hyper-traditionalists, this would have been miserable. It might have been my least attended Sunday Mass ever, with 7 total. I had one of the better singing voices (wow). I might have been the only person whose first language was the vernacular. The airport chapel is very unattractive. Yet as a celebration of the Word of God, it was a success.

Delta 2684 YVR 035 - MSP 600 (Airbus 319, Economy)

I disproved economics on this flight. No, I don't mean getting a travel voucher on a miles ticket. I convinced the checkin agent that I could open an emergency exit, and was thus assigned an exit aisle on this Airbus. As boarding is about to end, I notice a couple in the next row up ask the flight attendant about moving. I'm not sure entirely why, because they had one seat open. But they switch - into my row! A different female moves from near a crying baby into the window seat, leaving the aisle.

Now, here's the problem with Economic Man. From a comfort perspective, given that the couple was allowed to move, I would feel better in the forward row. I find a lack of seat width more painful than a lack of leg pitch. Shoulder to shoulder I'd like 21 inches, but an economy seat is just 17. If I moved forward I'd have shoulder clearance, enough legroom, and a nice tight sleeping position. The couple would also have more room. From a comfort perspective, given the current situation, moving would be a Pareto improvement.

But I don't move. I don't even offer. Why? It's a sense of justice. If I moved, the couple has effectively traded upwards, shoving me down in the process. I sacrifice comfort because I don't think they should get a passive-aggressive victory. Besides, both the movers are shorter and smaller than me. Why do they even need a longer row?

I don't get much sleep on the flight. It's only three hours, so there wasn't going to be much anyway. My new female row-mate takes off her sandals and places her bare feet on the armrests. I double check to make sure I'm not hallucinating. I'm not, sadly. I figure dreaming is the best outcome here, so I try to rest a bit until we descend into the USA.

Delta 6352 MSP 710 - SDF 1006 (CRJ-200, Economy)

There's other work for my $600, since there's no preclearance late at night. In preclearance, US customs and immigration are handled at the departing airport, not at the US arrival. This is better, because the work is done before boarding. This is also better because other countries are generally better at staffing airports. If you get the chance, I would strongly suggest an airport with preclearance.

I gave this benefit up for my cash, so I have to queue with everyone else through 3 poorly marked, slow lines. Speed didn't matter, though, as I still had to wait for my bag, go through Customs, and recheck luggage. Then, because customs is outside the secure zone, I got to go through the fear-and-humiliation queue again. On Monday morning, all the Minneapolis lines are long. I'm very glad my flight from Vancouver arrived 25 minutes early, or I wouldn't have made my Louisville connection. This process took over an hour. As it is, I had to powerwalk across moving sidewalks to Terminal B.

As for the flight, there could have been a karaoke competition for all I remember. I slept in a small window seat for most of the journey. My extremeties became a little numb, but I was back in my home city. I waited a few minutes for my bag and grabbed a taxi to my apartment. Thus ends Neuspeh Tour 2010.

On the Meaning of Neuspeh

Neuspeh, in a lot of ways, describes the last two years of my life. If you haven't guessed from the commentary, or tried an online translator, I'll help you: Failure. I've said that twelvefruits is always about failure, so this is typical. Looking back to 5 years ago, I still have the four failures: unmarried, edge of Catholicism, no tenure or even PhD, and fear of death.

Things aren't the same, though. We can start with the translation of neuspeh. I looked more carefully into Serbo-Croatian-Slovene linguistics. (Perhaps if I spent time in the gym instead of learning Yugoslavian linguistics ... .) The word uspeh is success, which means ne-uspeh is "Not Success". There's a difference. Failure is an ending, like biking down the Champs Elysees. It's over. Not success is a stage, like somewhere in the Alps. I'm in the mountains. There has been a great deal of progress. I had a romance, a failed one, yes, but true. Catholicism has a bigger problem (sexual abuse fallout) than hyperconservatism. While I don't have a degree, statistics education can be a commitment I actually like, with attractive career options. And I'm content in my spiritual life. Right now, I'm ne-uspeh.

I also found out about priorities. The romantic dumping was much harder than the thesis dumping. The main difference in pain level was realizing what I valued. I've already had more than one JOB in my life, and soon I'll have another. I'm trying hard to have one spouse. And that is the story; as much as I enjoy spending a month writing complex nine-part travelogues, I'd rather have someone near to tell them to.

Appendix: The Songs in Blue

Here are links to Youtube videos for the song snippets that begin each part of the report. The songs are clean, but the posted comments will likely include profanity. Sorry.

Part 8: Vancouver: Barenaked Ladies, If I had $1000000 [There's no official video. The song starts about 1 minute in.]

Not the prettiest church on this trip.	Vancouver has a lot of First Nations stuff.	It borders on guilt at times.
Looking onto a gate area from the food court.	Lamb is not a good burger; it deserves subtler preparation.	I stayed so late that even Tim Horton's closed.