Mission: Completed

My last night at the bar was the same as the first night. I wandered the space, bored. I smiled, served drinks. I inhaled smoke and cringed at the music. I counted down the minutes.

Last night I completed eight months of working at a cigar bar. I’ve worked various service jobs during the years, picking up cash here or there for a car payment or mad money. At the end of each sentence – er, service – I always felt a sense of freedom.

Last night, for the first time, I felt a little sad saying goodbye to the people at the bar. Good people, who treated me well and taught me a thing or two about scotch and cigars.

Then again, today I woke up and realized I don’t have to go back. No more standing on my feet. No more drunk people, rude men, loud cougars. No more reeking of cigar smoke. No more staying up until 3 a.m. and feeling tired all week because of it. Woo-hoo!

I began the job with one mission in mind: Australia. Every dollar I earned was saved for this adventure.

A lot of people say they are going to do this or do that. But when it comes time to sweat, they give up, letting their once solid dream drift into the “I always wanted to” pile, now as tangible as cigar smoke.

If nothing else, I made this happen. Leo and I leave for Australia in three weeks. Fifty years from now, I can look back and say: I did it.

That’s worth smelling like an ashtray.