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royaleflush-blog · 7 years

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I believe... in becoming real

Most people wander aimlessly through life, waking up following a routine, not really thinking about where they are going. They gaze at the rich, the powerful, the charismatics, the outspokens, and wonder how those people can be the way they are.

Its really sad that most people walk around with this huge nuclear bomb of stifled potential every day.

The potential isn’t being “successful” or “rich” or any other predefined way of being “better.” Its an intimate, personal, wonderful freedom of beauty and passion. The rich and powerful and famous didn’t get to where they were chasing other people’s dreams, they simply became utterly, infallibly, inexcusably, irresponsibly committed to being their own person.

It turns out being who you really are is easy, and when you admit to yourself that you can’t please everyone, you somehow end up pleasing the people who matter most to you.

It all starts with believing in the person you were made as, whoever that is. For me, it was a little boy obsessed with being outside, exploring, driving fast machines, and knowing how to survive. It took me too long to find out that living life as nothing -- dirt poor, in trouble with the law -- as myself was better than living someone else’s life.

I had buried the real me for so long, it took me some time to first acknowledge the person I had made wasn’t me, and second to remember who he was. It took me saying “I believe...” and finishing that sentence a thousand times to remember.

I’m not even there yet. I’ve set my eyes on it, made huge changes in my life, risked everything on it, and I’m not there yet. The real me is just blossoming, the real me is amazing and when I let him out, he makes a friend out of anyone.

“I believe in being 100% real all the time”

“I believe in having no debt”

“I believe in smiling”

“I believe people are good”

“I believe I can do anything I truly want to”

“I believe women aren’t the answer to happiness”

“I believe I will be ok even when shit hits the fan”

“I believe I don’t need to work in the corporate latter to be happy”

“I believe I can make it through anything”

“I believe there are people who appreciate the real me”

“I believe in God”

“I believe in monogamy”

“I believe children are wonderful”

“I believe I can help the world most in ways that get no recognition”

“I believe friends are precious”

“I believe in someone’s word”

“I believe I must become the person I admire”

The list goes on and on and on. I believe that if more people simply wrote down their list of their true desires and beliefs, and acted on them, the world would be a better place.

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royaleflush-blog · 7 years

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Chamonix

I’ve spent the better part of a week in a beautiful little French village called Chamonix. Chamonix is best known for being the journey point for explorers and sportsmen wishing to ski, climb, fly, and otherwise challenge themselves on the great Mt. Blanc, Europe’s tallest mountain.

My journey here started with the wish for freedom. My life took several turns down challenging paths and I was left with a wasteland of responsibilities that I didn’t earn. Tired of my boring dead-end (but very well paying) job, I decided to take an adventure in a place I dreamed about as a child.

I didn’t really care what I was going to do when I got here. I just wanted to live my life on my own terms. Find a great mountain, and perhaps I will find a great man. I decided to learn how to ski with no plan, no instructor, just myself and a lot of unknowns. I spent years questioning my ability, and I’ve finally reached a place in my life where I trust God and trust myself enough to go and do anything. The tough part is done, doing is easy.

My first day in Chamonix, still on jet lag and not having a care in the world, I woke up too late to reach the slopes in time to beat the late-season sun melting the snow. I spent the day purusing the town, getting my french cell phone number working, eating, buying odds and ends I need for travel. All the while I was biding my time for the night life to skulk out from the darkness.

The darkness came and I settled into a bar called Monkey near my hotel for my first beer. Town folk were regulars in this bar, the tourists avoided it. I found tattoo-covered lifetime skiers weren’t interested in being chatted up, so I left quickly for the next venue. I followed the music to a bar next to the town hall. As I approached the windows were covered in wetness from the immense heat and perspiration of a hundred people shoulder to shoulder listening to a Swiss cover band of middle-aged mountain people in a pub with one room and a stage the size of a banquet table. The vibe was life itself; jumping, dancing, smiling, screaming. After a moment I decided this was my time.

Going inside I easily wrestled my way to the bar to order a drink; I am tall and intimidating at 6′4″ or 193 cm, and the crowd parted easily for me. I reached the bar next to the jumping smiling patrons and sat eyeing the tender for 5 or 10 minutes as they busily rushed drinks to the eager skiers who were unwinding after a day of skiing. Not wanting to waste time sipping a beer, I ordered a shot of Grey Goose, neat of course. I had barely paid the bartender by the time I downed the shot.

Ready to party I pushed my way to the middle of the crowd and began dancing to the wonderful up-beat rock tunes, some in English some in French. The lead, a grizzled gray-haired man with a printed t-shirt and shoulder length waves, yelled instructions at the crowd while he drummed. “Put your arm around the people next to you like you have known each other forever,” he said. And so we did, one crowd became lifetime friends and rocked back and force singing at the top of our lungs.

At the unusually early time of 8:30 the band ended their performance and retired, leaving a crowd of soaking wet travelers only wanting more. Out of breath and covered in sweat I ordered another shot of vodka, downed it and staggered outside.

The night was so young! Being alone, I watched the other groups of friends and new acquaintances chat for some time looking for a group that seemed relatable, but failing to find one, I went around the corner and sat on a stone wall. I sat there steaming in the chilly night, only wearing my flannel shirt with its sleeves rolled up. I enviously watched as lovers passed, probably headed home to fuck each other’s brains out. On a night like this I certainly would.

I sat there looking at the dark mountains above, reflecting on how much time I have wasted in my life doing what other people have wanted. I reflected that this is one of the best nights in my life and all I had to do was “say yes”. I vowed that whatever happened in the future, my life would be lived on my terms first, and everything and everyone else second.

After a time, I donned my jacket and went to the pub across the street from the venue I just danced at. It was a casual affair with men and women on holiday from their probably very boring professional lives at home all across the world.

I entered the establishment looking for a beer and began to wait for the bartender once again. However, after some patient waiting for 5 minutes I began to get impatient and as a young professional-seeming woman passed by I eyed her. She said “that is some intense eye contact friend” acknowledging it. I told her “and you as well!” She was apparently going to take a leak in the bathroom next to the bar where I was waiting and while she waited for her turn we chatted.

The woman, as it turns out was an Australian living in Geneva, we spent a few minutes getting to know each other as the man inside the bathroom took his time. After learning I was alone, she invited me eagerly to her table with her friends. While I waited for her to get out of the bathroom and lead the way, two more men introduced themselves. Blake, a financial analyst from Australia, living in London, and another man who’s name escapes me who was the founder of HBO Now Sweden.

While I chatted, Cat passed by and I told her I’d meet her outside after I was done chatting. I finished my conversation with the Swede and proceeded outside to find Cat’s group, unfortunately lacking the beer I came to buy in the first place. After staring awkwardly at dark faces for a minute, I found her group and to my surprise Blake who I also met in the bathroom line was part of her entourage. It turns out waiting around places where people wait to go pee is a great place to meet interesting people.

The other friend in Cat and Blake’s entourage is a young man from Kazakhstan, who’s name was to complex to remember, and who Blake later told me was the CFO of a large oil company based there. We chatted egregiously about cultural difference. The man from Kazakhstan told us about his exploits skiing and the national sport of Kazakhstan, which is apparently a game sort of like rugby, except instead of a ball there is a live sheep.

None of us having eaten, we decided to go to a local burger joint down the street. The Kazakhstan man told us he would meet us there, and so Cat, Blake, and myself strolled down the night.

After bantering playfully with Cat the whole evening, she had the tell-tale signs of being attracted to me, but was still playing coy with her good friend Blake in tow. I wasn’t sure if they were together, and I didn’t really care. The night was going great and sex need not be on the table for me to enjoy it fully.

Arriving at the burger place, we found it had just closed and they were cleaning up. Defeated, our small group of strangers wandered defeated in the square adjoining the restaurant considering other options and we settled on pizza.

I told the group I knew a great place, the place where the local kids go, and directed them to the small Italian semi-formal eatery I had eaten delicious mushroom fondue at the prior evening that was in the adjoining square. The place claimed to be a Pizzaria; don’t ask why I ate fondue there, I don’t know either. I did know I had seen multiple discerning teenagers get pizza to go as I munched on stringy cheese covered bread, so it must be good.

I lead the group to the establishment and said “Hi, I’ve brought friends!” to the waiter who recognized me from the night before. We sat down at a table and considered the options. Blake seemed increasingly defensive as I flirted with Cat about Pizza options, Cat cruelly ignoring him and asking me a bevy of questions, most of which I riposte back to her like a master fencer. We settled on our Pizza, ham for them and ham and mushrooms for me.

As we waited for our Pizzas to cook, Blake took interest in my signet ring, a gold ring with a large flat carnelian gem. He assumed wrongly the ring meant I am from some important family who passes rings down from father to son to signify inheritance of family leadership. I love the idea, and do have blood from several distinguished families, but my ring is for me and me alone. Not wanting to waste a good opportunity though, I coyly told him I couldn’t tell him about it, as would be common for an elite man wishing to remain under cover.

Cat saw my resistance and began drilling me over the ring. It was honestly quite funny to see them be so insistent to know which dynasty they were in the presence of. They would probably be unhappy knowing it was MY dynasty, but I continued to segue on the ring as to not waste the wonderful opportunity for my own comical enjoyment.

The pizza came and was delicious. I had teased Cat that New York pizza was the best and this couldn’t be close, which she had bitten onto and admitted she had never tried NY pizza. Admittedly though, it was great pizza. Spicy, crunchy, and not drippy, it was thoroughly enjoyable.

As we chat, at one point Blake got up to go to the bathroom, and I took the opportunity to ask Cat about their relationship status, knowing fairly well the answer already. She told me they weren’t together and were just friends. It turned out my assumption was correct that they were either friends with benefits or poor Blake was madly in love with her and she was toting him around as a toy. I was leaning toward the later. Poor Blake.

We left the Pizza restaurant bound for a new drinking venue to finish the night at, and as we went out the door I took Cat’s arm and direct us to Monkey, my first venue of the night. She left her arm in mine for a moment and took it out as we strolled in Monkey’s direction. Meanwhile Blake tows behind questioning the decision to go to Monkey; it is too far away; this was the wrong way. I kept walking knowing if I wanted to seal the deal with Cat, I had to make it easier to go to my flat than her flat with Blake.

We went down a street toward Monkey that got darker and quieter and Blake continued to question if we were going in the right direction. We reached a round-about I didn’t recognize and I admitted to the group I wasn’t sure which way to go, a solid mistake, seeing as I checked later, if I had trusted my instincts I would have ended up at Monkey, but that’s not how the night worked out. Blake won and we went back the way we came to our original bar. The night was far from over though, in fact it had barely begun.

To be continued...

#freedom real travel france chamonix people experiences dancing drinking

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