An arrow stitched into the carpet of my hotel room, pointing me to a sacred land and urging me to make the pilgrimage, is evidently unaware how exhausted I am from the flight. I can only lie still, so I reach for the remote and turn on the television instead. I flip the channels without looking to see what else is on, hoping to catch a single frame of a striking scene.

On the wall behind the universal black rectangle, the second hand of the clock lingers on its hash when I first look at the clock. Time moves slower just as the information is first processed, if it moves at all. It couldn’t be more relative, to the movement and experience as well. Suddenly, the clock ticks faster than it used to. I am wasting my time worrying about running out. Like a hopeless glutton, I crave infinite seconds.

My attention returns to the screen as the lone English channel flashes a Breaking News animation, but those aren’t to be trusted anymore. This one is informing us all that an prominent rapper has appropriated yet another cardinal direction for his family.

The airline sharing the child’s name will need a timely social media response in order to take full advantage of the situation. The marketing team members who’ll be woken up with urgency will not question the import of the early alarm. Oreo’s instantaneous reaction to a past Superbowl blackout is top of mind as the desired goal, a viral outcome whose replication is difficult but not impossible.

Restaurants frantically call their vendors, confirming they’ll be able to fulfill increased orders for the related sauce, which will undoubtedly experience a focused rejuvenation in the coming weeks.

I glance down at the spiritual pointer and realize it’s guiding my eyeline to the same orientation. This connection didn’t come up 2600 years ago, when the undepictable first graced the desert.

Restless and unrested, I mute the television and stand up, stretching at my apex. The window covers the entire left wall, and when I pull the blackout curtains open, the illuminated capital city below rightfully forgets what it used to be. Progress is inevitable, and the only ones resisting aren’t profiting from it.

I consider reviewing my notes for a meeting tomorrow, where I’ll be brokering a deal I don’t fully understand. It won’t do any good, I convince myself to relieve any guilt from neglecting my official duty so that I can head down to the lobby bar in a more informal capacity.

November 22 – Mark Ruffalo gets a business traveller’s hotel room
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