Excess Baggage

[Safefunguy]

Come along with Maid and Safe as they weave a tale of the lives of fellow travelers: One seeking to avoid wasting time; the other redeeming squandered opportunity.

Not all baggage we carry can be checked as we travel through life.




If you wish to pass along a comment please feel free to pm either of us. Hope you enjoy!

 

[Safefunguy]

Miles Bradbourne: Attorney-at-Law, Pilgrim

He stepped out of the cab at O'hare and tipped the driver generously.. "Merry Christmas & drive safe"

"Thank you sir," came the cabby's reply: "and a very good holiday to you." The grinning cabby pocketed the extra $20, slipped back into his vehicle, and drove off into the raging blizzard once again. It was only matter of moments before he was lost from sight in the blowing snow.

Miles Bradbourne pulled the top of his overcoat tightly together and peered into the stormy night. He doubted that his flight would be leaving anytime close to its scheduled departure in two hours. He had plenty of time.

Miles had learned the value of time.

As a partner in his firm the phrase: "time is money" flew around the partnership meetings. Always interested in increasing the firm's bottom line, Miles and the other partners dreamt up creative ways to milk the dollars from their clients accounts.

Nothing illegal or unethical of course, but if you could bill an hour to multiple clients; those vacation homes and prestige autos were more quickly purchased and more readily maintained.

Yes, much of his past 43 years had been spent a slave to clocks and calendars. First in college, loaded up on heavier course loads than his fraternity brothers so that he could graduate a year early. Then later in law school where the demands of professors were outrageous, the competition among the students vicious. His efforts were rewarded with a postion at the prestigious Los Angeles based firm of Vernola, Sedman & Wroe.

New associates at the firm were expected to bill 100 hours a week. That way the firm could weed out the prospects unable to perform consistently under pressure. It was a litigation firm. No corporate merger or estate attorneys here. The firm's lawyers were modern day gladiators disemboweling their opponents in the arenas of county, state and federal courtrooms nationwide.

If an associate mastered the art of the 75 hour workweek billable at 100 or more, he was watched by the current partners. Always empire building, the partners recruited aspiring legal superstars to build their support base so that eventually they could challenge for leadership positions within the firm and the astronomical bonuses that went along with the powerful offices.

Empires were built and crushed within the firm constantly as factions turned on each other in their quest to take up residence at the prestigious LA headquarters offices. Losers were banished to the field offices: Chicago, New York, London and even Hong Kong were okay, but an associate could just as quickly land in Billings, MT; Gillette, WY; or Roanoke, VA with a caseload of drugged out mine workers, oilfield roughnecks, or railroad trash; getting them off charges to keep the production streams flowing. Anything and everything to keep the big energy conglomerates happy, filling the coffers of the firm.

Miles had been fortunate in his career. He had navigated the flood of early approaches by the lesser partners eventually doomed to lose the power struggles. That is until he caught the eye of Emery Pomberg, the current chief financial officer. Miles had maintained billable hours in excess of 125 hours a week for four years before getting the invite to dinner at Emery's club. He signed on eagerly; his new mentor helping him advance his career. He had chosen wisely.

Then the work weeks had grown from 75 hours a week to over 90 hours, often topping 100. Miles had thought it worth it at the time. The Mercedes, the penthouse, the stream of young starlets drawn to the newest eagle on the LA legal circuit paying testimony to the fact of his success. He was becoming a very rich and powerful young man.

With his mentor's endorsement he made partner within two more years. He had the world in front of him on a platter... his to select from as he desired. For the past twenty five years his world was time...the last nineteen measured in billable hours and more money than even he could appreciate. Lucky for him, he had all the time in the world.

Too bad his brother Ethan hadn't.

A gust of wind blasted Miles with a swirl of snow. He grabbed his bags and hurried into the terminal.

 

[Maid of Marvels]

"Look, I don't know when flights are going to resume, Tom." Amanda Callahan pinched the bridge of her nose, continuing to walk as she spoke into her cel. "I didn't plan this blizzard, you know."

"Of course you didn't, Mandy," her fiancé replied.

Dear God how she hated when he called her that, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Correcting him was pointless, Tom would say and do as he pleased come hell or high water. Or a blizzard.

"It's just that the wedding... "

"Did you honestly think I was likely to forget about my own wedding, Tom?" she asked through clenched teeth. Great! Now her jaw was hurting along with her head. "Look, I've got to go. I'll call you later." Breaking the connection, Amanda looked down, prepared to place the cel into her shoulder bag, and walked straight into a wall.

"Jesus Christ! Can't you watch where you're going??" she spat, directing all of her frustration at the mountain of a man who had stepped out of one storm only to find himself in the face of another. And, as if to make matters worse, Amanda's ankle chose that exact moment to twist, sending her crashing to the floor.

"Are you all right?" the man asked, setting down his bags and dropping to one knee beside her.

The look on Amanda's face could only be described as incredulous. Here she was, sprawled on the floor of O'Hare where she was stranded by a freak snowstorm two days before her wedding after being knocked down by some dimwit who was suddenly concerned for her well-being and he has the balls to ask... "Am I okay? You're joking, right?" Her voice was dangerously shrill as she struggled to get up without the proffered help of this selfsame accident-waiting-to-happen guy when she noticed that the heel of her boot was dangling at a weird angle.

Amanda opened her mouth to spew some more venom, then closed it again and counted to two. She might as well go for broke. "Peachy. I'm just... peachy," she shrieked, ready to take on every third nation country in the world just as her cel phone began to ring. This had to be someone's idea of a bad joke. She began to laugh and then she began to cry.

"Do you want me to get that?"

Why not. Amanda nodded and the guy retrieved the cel from where it had skittered as she dropped it.

"Hello?"

"Who's this?? Where's Mandy?? Did you steal her phone? I'm calling the police."

"My name is Miles Bradbourne," he replied, looking at the crying woman who was shaking her head and waving him off. "Mandy is... She'll call you back in a few. Who may I say is calling?"

"Give me that!!" Even she was surprised by the animalistic growl that erupted from her mouth. "It's Amanda!" she screamed into the cel. "Ah. Man. Dah!! Got it??"

"Who was that man?" Tom asked.

"I don't know, but I plan to find out." She looked up at him and glared. "For insurance purposes."

 

[Safefunguy]

Fight or No Flight?

"For insurance purposes, indeed." Miles thought to himself, ever the attorney, even in the face of the emotional outburst of the young woman. "Why in Hell did the entire world seem to be in such a damn hurry to sue each other?" He withdrew a business card from his pocket, writing his cell phone number on the back. The attorney inside came through full tilt, ready to exchange information, and looking around the crowd for any witnesses that had stayed behind.

Nobody seemed to be paying any attention to the two of them as the crowd kept moving, intently heading toward departure gates, hoping to stake out some of the dwindling space to wait out the inevitable delays.

"It has to be this damn storm." he thought as he sized up the distraught woman. Air travel had been reduced to nothing over the course of the storm. Tensions were high as holiday plans and commitments were trampled by the severity of the weather. He wondered what brought her to this level of frustration; what plans and dreams of the young woman were now in a holding pattern.

While the young woman finished her conversation on her phone, Miles began collecting their scattered belongings, attempting to get them safely out of the flow of traffic through the terminal.

Since she was occupied with her call, Miles took the opportunity to study the woman. "She's a lovely woman, I'm sure under better circumstances, this storm must be deeply impacting her." he thought to himself. Miles could hear her struggling as she valiantly sought to regain her composure while talking to the man on the phone.

He handed her his handkerchief, holding it out to her insistently after her initial refusal of help. Miles could tell she was appreciative of his attempt, even though she was under such stress that she needed an outlet, and due to unfortunate timing her wrath had turned upon him. "This storm is driving everyone nuts!" He shook his head as she finished her call and put away her phone.

"Well Miss Ah-Man-Dah," he said with a smile, "my only concern was to see that you were okay. You did take a nasty spill after running into me. Would you like me to summon a paramedic to look at that ankle?"

Amanda shook her head in refusal so he offered his hand to help her up. She appeared to be okay, nothing more wounded than her pride. Miles realized that she was more embarrassed than angry.

"If it isn't too late, allow me to wish you a joyous holiday season. I wish you safe travels for the rest of your journey." The particular words held special meaning to Miles, he knew all about better late than never, that was what his journey was all about. He gave her his business card, telling her to call if he could be of assistance and prepared to head to the first class check-in counter.