Jetlag

      Sam sprinted along as fast as his legs would propel him, weaving in and out as he dodged bystanders sauntering along. His heart was racing, and he could feel the perspiration building up under his shirt. He cut to the left, deftly avoiding a man walking towards him, engrossed in a message on his phone and oblivious to everything else. A sharp swerve back to the right led Sam onto the moving sidewalk. His small suitcase skipped and bounced as he made the turn, ricocheting off the plexiglass wall and twisting his wrist. He sped along the conveyor, his carry-on bag, now back on both wheels, buzzing down the corrugated belt.

      The young man glanced down nervously at his watch. His flight had begun boarding ten minutes ago, but he was still many gates away from where he needed to be. He skidded to a stop, almost crashing into a young couple standing side-by-side on the conveyor, lost in their conversation and each other’s eyes.

      “Ahem,” Sam coughed loudly. The lovebirds paid no attention. I don’t have time for this. Sam put his hand on the man’s shoulder and, as kindly as he could manage, said, “Excuse me.”

      The man looked back, genuinely surprised that anyone else existed in this section of the airport. “Oh, um, sorry,” he said, shifting closer to his companion–which neither of them seemed to mind.

      As soon as there was a crack of an opening, Sam leaped through and raced toward the walkway’s end. He glared down at the words WALK and STAND written on either side of the bright yellow line painted down the entire length of the belt. He fought the urge to comment loudly, Oh! That is the stand side, and this is the walking side.

      “Last call for Delta flight 868 to Boston,” the overhead speakers announced. “Please head to your gate immediately or your flight may leave without you.”

      Sam stepped off the conveyor and merged back into the main hallway. He was only three gates away. If his flight from Denver had not been an hour late arriving in Minneapolis, he would have had plenty of time to make his connection, but that’s not how things had played out.

      “Wait!” he called out, rounding the corner and nearly taking out a magazine rack with this carry-on bag. “I’m right here.”

      “Don’t close the door,” the gate agent spoke into her radio. “I’ve got one more.” Sam tried to catch his breath as he removed his passport and boarding pass from the inside pocket of his jacket. He handed the documents to the attendant, who smiled politely and ushered him toward the catwalk. “Have a pleasant flight, sir.”

      “Thanks.”

      The humid air inside the cabin, combined with the dash to the gate, left him feeling clammy. As he shuffled down the narrow aisle to his seat, he could feel the eyes of the other passengers upon him, or perhaps that was just his imagination.

      “Good evening, everyone,” a muffled voice came over the P.A. system. “This is your captain once again. Now that we finally have everyone on board, we will be pushing back from the gate and be on our way as soon as possible.”

      Sam stuffed his carry-on bag in the overhead bin and then squeezed himself into the middle seat of row 17, flanked by two high school rugby players who had apparently forgotten to shower after their last game. His averaged-sized frame appeared small in contrast to the two large teens, but it was not small enough to fit comfortably between them. It’s been one of those days, he thought to himself as the plane began to move.

 

* * *

 

      The sun shone through the bedroom window, signaling the start of another beautiful summer’s day. Sam fought off the effects of mild jetlag and resisted the urge to hit the snooze button for the fourth time. It is always nice to wake up in your own bed, he thought as he kicked off the covers and sluggishly sat up. There was a time when traveling was exciting to him and spending the night in a big hotel was a special treat, but those days had passed. The novelty had long since worn off and now it was home that he looked forward to checking into more than anything else.

      Being a lawyer had always required a certain amount of traveling, but it seemed of late that amount had increased significantly. Sam’s firm was the largest in the city and one of the most prestigious in the nation. They attracted high-profile clients from across the country and sometimes internationally. When there was paperwork that needed to be signed or depositions that needed to be taken, it was often lawyers further down on the food chain, like Sam, who went to meet with clients wherever they may be, while the partners drank Cognac on the 25th floor of their office tower or spent the day on the golf links. It seemed Sam was logging even more miles than usual, and he’d had more than his fill of hotels, restaurants, and airports.

      The young lawyer rolled his bike out of the apartment building and began weaving his way through the side streets as he headed downtown. It only took 15 or 20 minutes for him to pedal to work. As he rode along, he soaked in all the sights and sounds of the early summer. He used to take the bus to the work, but it was so crowded and noisy he always arrived at the office angry. Biking was not only far more peaceful and relaxing, but it was good for the environment too, which he considered a worthwhile bonus.

      He rolled up in front of the impressive office tower. All the buildings downtown were tall and shiny, but the law offices of Lonsdale, Johnson, Lewis, and Creight were a cut above them all. Sam walked up to the front doors of the building, which were framed by large marble columns. The exterior of the building had been constructed to give the impression of strength and power to make any opposing lawyer feel small and outmatched when they walked through the doors. The architect had done his job well.

      “Morning, Steve,” greeted Sam as he walked his bike up to the door.

      “Good Morning, Mr. Bishop,” replied the doorman, dressed in his typical velvet green suit, as he opened the door for the young lawyer.

      “Another great day, isn’t it?”

      “That it is.”

      “Have a good one,” Sam called as he rolled his bike into the lobby of the building and then off to the right. The city had started a big Go Green campaign a couple of years ago, and the building had converted an old storage room off the foyer into a bike garage. The firm had done it primarily for the good P.R., but he was thankful to have a secure place to keep his bike, nonetheless. Sam punched in the key code to the door and parked his bike in one of the many stalls. Pulling a comb out of his back pocket, he combed and parted his brown hair to one side, undoing the influence of his bike helmet. He exited the room and headed across the lobby, greeting the staff at the front desk as he walked by.

      Sam turned the corner, entering a long, vaulted corridor, and saw the doors on one elevator sliding closed. A quick glance at the light above the doors showed the elevator was on its way up, so he sprinted down the hall, hoping to catch it in time. His bike helmet banged against his briefcase as he ran. At the last second, Sam stretched out his arm and slid his hand in between the closing doors. Sensing the pressure point, the door retracted, and he stepped into the elevator.

      “That was a close one.” Sam laughed. “Um, can you press 24 for me, please? Thanks.”

      Sam hated the awkward silences elevators were notorious for. He was a friendly guy by nature and could almost always find something to chat about with whomever he might meet. The other passenger in the elevator, a young man roughly the same age as Sam, shifted back and forth.

      “Floor 15, huh? Who do you work for?” Sam’s law firm owned the building, but several of the lower floors were leased out to other companies.

      “Um, Finch and Steele.” The young man was nervous and distracted. “I’m a, um, an engineer.”

      “Cool. I’m a lawyer,” Sam cheerfully replied. “I work upstairs, in the law office… ‘cause that’s what lawyers do, work in law offices.”

      “Uh-huh.”

      “My name’s Sam, by the way,” he said, extending his hand.

      “Yeah, Matt. Nice to meet you. You ride your bike to work today, Sam?”

      “Yeah, how’d you know that?”

      “You’ve got a bike helmet strapped to your briefcase handle and your right pant leg is still tucked into your sock.”

      “Oh, yeah. I always forget that.” Sam leaned down and gave his pant leg a firm tug, releasing it from the grip of his sock.

      Matt gazed at the display above the door as it ticked up floor by floor. His expression screamed that the elevator could not rise fast enough for his liking. He looked anxious about something, which was likely none of Sam’s business. In which case, you should probably just keep your mouth shut, Sam thought. “Hey, man, are you okay? You seem, you know, wound pretty tight.”

      “Yeah, I’m fine.” Matt didn’t sound terribly convincing. “I’ve got a huge deal I’m trying to close today. That’s all.”

      “Man, I know what that’s like, believe me. Hey, mind if I give you a little advice?” Sam asked, but didn’t wait for a reply. “I know sometimes these things can feel like they’re life and death, right? But in the long run, a lot of stuff isn’t nearly as important as we think it is. Just remember, even if your deal doesn’t go well, it’s not the end of the world.”

      “Almost any other day, I’d agree with you, Sam.” The young man grinned just as the elevator door opened to the fifteenth floor and he stepped out.

      “Alright, catch you later, Matt. Good luck,” Sam called out as the doors slid closed once again. “That guy’s gotta learn to go with the flow,” he announced to the now empty elevator.

      A few minutes later, he arrived on the 24th floor, which was already abuzz with activity. He walked past the reception desk toward his office.

      “Hey there, stranger!” a sharp-looking man with a trimmed beard greeted from behind the counter.

      “Hey, Kyle, how’ve you been?”

      “Can’t complain. How was Colorado?”

      “About the same as the last three times I was there.”

      “Ah, that’s ‘cause you never go out and do anything fun,” the receptionist countered. “Man, if I got to go all the places you do, I’d be out doing the town and seeing the sights.”

      “Ha! The only sights I see are waiting rooms and boardrooms,” Sam said.

      “Yeah, that sounds like a real hoot.”

      “Catch you later, Kyle,” Sam called as he continued to his office.

      Sam had recently been promoted to an office on the outer ring of the floor, which was a little larger than the ones clustered in the room’s interior. The real perk, especially for a guy like Sam, was that the outer offices came with something the others did not offer - natural light. One entire wall of his new office was solid glass. It was a little unnerving to stand at the edge and look down 24 stories to the ground, but the view of the city was great and the working space was so much more pleasant.

      “Well, look what the cat dragged in,” someone said from the doorway behind him.

      “Hey, James.”

      “Welcome back… again,” the young man greeted. He was dressed in a suit, as were all the men in the office, although his was not off the rack. Neatly combed, sandy blonde hair, a clean-shaven face, and perfectly knotted tie gave James a rather striking look, which was tempered by his friendly grin. “Are you here for all week?”

      “Almost.” Sam said. He sat at his desk and began taking stock of the various piles that had accumulated during his most recent absence. “I have an appointment on Friday, but it’s just out in the suburbs, so that’s not too bad.”

      “Alright. Maybe we can actually do something this weekend. I’ll let you get settled back in. We’ll catch up later.”

      “Sounds good.”

      James and Sam had joined the firm at the same time and were still at the same level in the firm, other than Sam’s new office being on the outer ring. James was an excellent lawyer and a hard worker, but he also had a wife and baby at home, which made him less eager to travel as much as a single, unattached guy was willing to do.

      Sam sat behind his desk and took a deep breath. He considered getting up to close his office door, which James had left wide open. Sam was a friendly guy, but always felt a little antisocial after returning from his trips. There were so many people everywhere–in hotels, in office buildings and especially in airports. He loved people, but it is possible to have too much of a good thing, he thought to himself. Closing his office door was his way of blocking out the world while he attempted to get caught up on the paperwork sitting on his desk. But then again, closing the door would require getting up from his chair, which didn’t seem worth the effort.

      Sam’s morning was undisturbed, aside from two brief phone calls confirming appointments for later in the week. He put a significant dent in the stacks of paper on his desk, which made him feel good. However, it was only a dent.

      “Still slaving away?” James asked as he sauntered into the room.

      “Ha! When am I not?”

      “Some of us are heading over to Red Robin for lunch. You wanna come?”

      “Rain check,” Sam said. “I packed a lunch. Figured I would need my entire nine to five to get caught up on stuff today.”

      “Your loss, buddy,” James grinned. “But don’t bother bringing your lunch tomorrow.”

      “Deal,” Sam said.

      “Catch you later.”

      “Yep. Hey, would you mind closing the door when you leave?”

      “Sure. See ya.”

      Sam would have preferred lunch with James and the others over the squashed PB and J he had stuffed in his briefcase. But he also knew that if he didn’t get caught up today, it would bog him down all week. So, with a sigh, he turned his attention back to the file open on his desk.

      Three files and an hour later, Sam felt his eyelids get heavy as jet lag combined with a late night caught up with him. After several involuntary head bobs, he decided he needed to get some caffeine into him, quick. The coffee from the break room would do in a pinch, but a Caramel Macchiato from Starbucks would be even better. Perhaps, if he wasn’t already on his way back to the office, James would grab him one. I’ll just finish up with the Parry file and then call him. It was a good plan, but Sam never made it through the file. Pages of legalese are a powerful anesthetic at the best of times, but today it was more than he could fight off. Minutes later, he gave in to the urge to rest his head on the desktop, but only for a minute–at least that’s what he told himself.

 

* * *

 

      Sam woke up in the middle of the night, which was strange for him. Although he sometimes had difficulty falling asleep, once he was out, he was usually out for the night. I guess I’m still on Denver time or something. He was halfway to the bathroom when he noticed something rather peculiar.

      “What? How did that happen?”

      Sam was still wearing the same suit he had worn to the office the previous day. It was all a blur. Was he so tired when he got home that he just fell into bed? That didn’t seem like something he’d do, but he had no better explanation. He must have been exhausted, because, in the mental haze of the early morning hours, Sam couldn’t recall coming home at all.

      After a quick trip to the bathroom, he stripped out of his work clothes, not bothering to hang them up, and fell back into bed. He would deal with the mess in the morning. He obviously needed the sleep more than anything. It only took a few moments until he was once again sawing logs like a Canadian lumberjack.

 

* * *

 

      Sam stepped out of his apartment building, still pondering his bizarre middle of the night experience. Even more perplexing was how little of the previous day he could remember. Perhaps all those miles logged on airplanes are finally catching up with you, he thought as he closed the front gate behind him. The strange experience was far more unsettling than he cared to admit to anyone, including himself. On the upside, other than the brief interruption, he had enjoyed a refreshing night’s sleep. Hopefully, that means no more weird stuff like last night.

      He headed two blocks down the street to catch the number 70 bus downtown. He walked the length of the coach and found a seat toward the back. The bus was mostly full, as it often was at this time of day.

      Two stops down the line, several people boarded the bus. Sam knew it was getting close to where the capacity of the bus meant he would soon lose the comfort of the empty seat beside him. He was quite relieved when a girl in her early twenties sat beside him instead of the hefty man with the plaid jacket and bushy mustache walking behind her.

      “Hi, I’m Sam.”

      “Um, hi. I’m Clara,” the girl said.

      “I see you’re studying psychology,” Sam stated, noting the textbook Clara had pulled out of her backpack.

      “Yeah, I’m a psych major down at M.I.T.”

      “Sounds interesting. What does your textbook tell you about guys who talk to you on the bus?” he asked with a disarming smile.

      “Nothing, but my intuition tells me they likely want something,” the college student answered. “Probably a date.”

      “Ha! Are you asking me out?” Sam joked. “Just kidding. I’m only being friendly. You can put your taser away.”

      “That’s good to know,” Clara said. “Nice to meet you, Sam.”

      “You too.” He paused for a moment. “Hey, can I ask you a strange question?”

      “I’m quite confident that you can.” She laughed. “Go ahead.”

       “Have you read anything in those textbooks about people blacking out or forgetting large blocks of time?”

      “Were you abducted by aliens?” Clara asked with a grin.

      “Not that I know of.”

      “Well, that’s good. I always like to rule that out first, so I know just what kind of strange I’m dealing with.”

      “Fair enough.”

      “I suppose there are a couple of different conditions that might cause people to forget blocks of time. However, the most common, unless you’re prone to getting super drunk or high…”

      “Nope. That’s not really my thing.”

      “Then I would guess being stressed and overtired. At least that’s where I would start. Ruling that out there are some more exotic conditions, like dissociative identity disorder, but they’re far less common.”

      “That’s probably it,” Sam said, trying very hard to persuade himself. “Stressed and overtired.”

      “But then again, I’m just starting my third year, so what do I know?”

      “Well, thanks anyway. I’ll let you get back to your studying.”

      Half an hour later, Sam instinctively reached down to pick his briefcase off the floor before remembering he didn’t have one with him today. He stood up and inched his way past the college student, who was frantically highlighting lines in her textbook. “Have a great day, Clara.” Sam smiled and then headed to the exit.

      “Thanks, you too.”

      The bus had stopped about a block from his office building but, luckily for Sam, right in front of the Starbucks. He popped in and picked up a large Quad-Americano, reasoning he would need all the help he could get to make it through the day without passing out at his desk again. After greeting the doorman as usual, Sam headed straight for the storage room off the lobby. He peeked inside just long enough to verify that his bike was indeed still locked up right where he had left it the previous morning.

      When he reached the 24th floor, the young lawyer headed straight for his office and closed the door behind him. As he settled in at his desk, confusion swept over him like a barrel wave collapsing on a surfer. He had not accomplished as much as he had hoped. The Parry file still lay open and incomplete on his desk, as did many others. He recalled dozing off at lunchtime, but surely, he didn’t sleep through the entire afternoon. His door had been closed and the blinds were drawn, so it was possible no one had seen or disturbed him. ‘Possible, but unlikely,’ he thought.

      “Knock, knock,” James called, tapping on Sam’s office door and opening it simultaneously. “Hey there. Are you planning to put a full day in today?”

      “That’s the plan,” Sam said, unconfidently.

      “What happened to you yesterday, anyway?”

      “What do you mean?”

      “I came to check in on you around two o’clock and you were nowhere to be found. No one knew where you were or when you had left. Not even Kyle, which is saying something, because that guy knows everything that goes on in this office.”

      “I guess I packed it in early and headed home to catch up on some sleep,” Sam said with all the confidence of the class nerd asking a cheerleader to prom.

      “You guess?”

      “Close the door,” Sam instructed his friend. “To be honest, I remember nothing past one o’clock. I was going to call and ask you to bring me back a coffee and then, blam! I just zonked out right here at my desk.”

      “Ha, been there. How long were you out for? Did you drool on the files? I hate it when that happens.”

      “That’s just it, I don’t know. At some point, I guess I went home. I must have been out of it because I didn’t even remember to ride my bike–as I discovered this morning. Maybe I caught the bus or something.”

      “That was probably a good choice. If you were that tired, biking home might not have been the best option.”

      “I suppose. It was all really weird.” It kinda freaked me out a bit, he confessed silently.

      “Well, I’ll let you get to work. Looks like you still have a lot of catching up to do.”

      “You know that’s right. My catch-up day turned into a half day, so now I’m behind the eight ball.”

      “I won’t harass you anymore, but if you feel yourself zoning out again, come find me and we’ll get some fresh air, or coffee, or both.”

      “Sounds good. Thanks.”  

      The rest of the day went well and was relatively normal. Sam joined James and the others for lunch from their favorite food truck and then took a brisk walk around the block before returning to work. He ended up staying a couple of extra hours, but by the time he headed home, he felt he had at least come close to getting to where he needed to be. Sam welcomed the normalcy of routine. He was a creature of habit, and he knew it. Sam was quite adept at thinking on his feet, but he didn’t enjoy having to do it. He didn’t enjoy scrambling through airports, renegotiating contracts at the eleventh hour, and certainly not blacking out for half a day.