Do You Have the Time

Jetlag. Everyone knows what it means but only those of us in it can commiserate. I'm back from the Islands and it occurred to me had I flown the same distance east instead of west I could have landed in Prague in the future instead of Honolulu in the past. Now I sit in Boston in my present wondering what time it is. For the first time in my adult life I actually understand and appreciate the lyric, "Does anybody really know what time it is?" Not that I haven't traveled plenty of places before...but those places didn't have a tiki bar next to a beach and a moon that will tap you on the shoulder to let you know night just fell. For some reason, time sorta stops in Hawaii. Could be the traffic, poised at every light like surfers awaiting the next big wave. Could be the locals, encouraging your next cocktail with an ear to ear grin and eyes that say, hey, you're not anywhere near a continent anymore. You may not make it back... It's a couple of days later (I think) since my last stroll on the sands of Waikiki, but it feels like ages already. It's amazing how you get back to doing what you're mind is used to before you're body's remotely ready. And of course, I try to talk my body back into the 9 to 5 on the east side, the 11:00 p.m. bedtime, but then my stomach argues, hey I should be enjoying those fabulous chicken wings and a jack and diet about now. No one else is up at 2:00 a.m. to agree. The fridge, full of vegetables, salsa and one lone beer, is not cooperating. Count Chocula doesn't help, but it was worth the try. I don't know how long it really takes to get back to your old self and not feel like that guy from Quantum Leap. I mean, I'm here, back where I belong, but I still feel like I just appeared, my hair's mussed up and I'm holding two pineapples for no apparent reason. I wish I would just stop calculating six hours back every time I look at the clock to justify whatever I'm feeling at the moment. But it's in my blood, I think. I used to be one of those people who would set my clock 10 minutes fast so when the alarm went off in the morning I would actually wake up ahead of the game. My alarm clock was a softball with a 9 minute snooze. When it went off, I'd throw it against the wall to activate the snooze. 9 minutes later it would go off again, but of course, I was still a minute ahead plus the other 10 minutes...snooze again, and well, you can see why I never really know what time it is regardless of wherever the hell I am. And I have a nasty habit of throwing hotel room alarm clocks against the wall. The good news is, this weekend is fall back. While I routinely admit Halloween is my favorite holiday, secretly it's because it lands around the weekend we all fall back. Fall back in time. Gain an hour. I love gaining that hour!! I don't change the clocks till later in the day so I can look at them and go, hey, it's actually only 2:30, not 3:30! I tell other people, too. Strangers in line. They ask me what time it is and I say, "3:30 on my watch, but guess what?! It's really only 2:30! Isn't that awesome?!!" And then I put down the pineapples and straighten my hair a little. I love doing the backward math that gives you more time in your day. I'm always looking for more time. Maybe that's why jetlag plagues me longer than most. I think of the time I had as time I still have. Now that I'm in two places mentally, why sleep? What's wrong with 6 meals a day? And I ain't lyin' when I belly up to the bar and say, hey, it's 5 o'clock somewhere...flying first class across four time zones taught me that. I guess I'll take jetlag if it means your nuts are warm, you can watch four movies in a row and no one but the flight attendant knows what a lush you really are. What are the odds she'll be on your next leap anyway?