When you fly west from Europe to the states, you cheat time. Everyone knows that.
But what about flying straight into that rising sun, and cheating the night?
On a recent trip to Ireland, halfway through the flight, I put my watch ahead five hours, watched as the sun rose in front of us, way sooner than my biological clock would have allowed, and reveled in the success of having one less night to suffer through.
Attempts to deconstruct the rationale of this connection are an exercise in futility. As far as I know, none of the lost tribes wound up here. So if there's a blood connection, it must be from a past life.
All I do know is that this city is sweaty and full of speed, it's dirty and it's alive, it's loud with the thumping of disco, punk, thrash metal, car horns, voices, and the heartbeats of artists everywhere. Not only do I not sleep here, or in the rest of the country, my brain combusts, spewing creative output at a pace that baffles even me.
Eventually though, I gave up. And then I gave in. Tossed the anxiety, the sleeping pills, the self-flagellating head-wrecking, all of it, and took the gift for what it was: an uninterrupted awakening of the soul.
So all those dark circles under the eyes you'll be seeing now?
They may not look good, but they're a good thing indeed.
It should be an interesting trip. Stay tuned.