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Absolute disaster. The entire week before I left for the conference was filled with nothing but one crisis after another. Misplaced files, broken equipment, overdue requisitions, too many people on sick leave. Typical fire-fighting. No time for analysis or finesse. Handle the short-term problem. Douse the flames. Keep running. Next blaze is already smoldering.

Although this incident happened several years ago, it was an early 'message from the Universe,' and one I continue to learn. The upcoming seminar's focus was educational and would demand both effort and concentration, but by simply taking the break it offered — getting away from the morass of daily office disasters, I hoped to find some respite, some decompression. I desperately needed to shift gears, change direction. By adding a day of actual vacation to the time-out of the conference, self-restoration might possibly happen.

Regaining some perspective on the world outside my office took the entire hour-and-a-half flight to Denver. After renting a car at the mile-high airport, I intended to drive through the mountains to the conference location. Solitary sight-seeing would be excellent recovery and preparation for the next learning opportunity. Not until I faced the clerk at the car-rental counter did I realize I'd neglected a simple task that proved incredibly important.

During the previous week, an internal voice kept reminding me that my driver's license would expire the day before my trip. Yes, I rationalized, I know. But there's so much going on at work, I'll be lucky to pack a suitcase in time to get on the plane. Anyway, I calculated, renewals have a thirty-day grace period and I'd only be gone four. In the midst of the continual office disaster-relief operation, I put legalities out of my mind. This one "errand" could wait until my return. Right.

"Your license is expired," she said. With only carry-on luggage this trip, I'd made my way through the huge maze of airport and car-rental shuttle-bus system in record time. Morning barely half gone, I was anxious to be on the road and into the mountains. I didn't need hassles getting a car. The clerk handling my reservation seemed amiable, but several more customers stood behind me. No one here really wanted problems.

"I still have thirty days to renew," I replied.

"Not in Colorado," she said. "As far as this state is concerned, the expiration date on your license was yesterday. I can't rent a car to anyone with an invalid license."

Stunned, not knowing what to say, I simply stared at the woman. Already closing the file of my paperwork, her outstretched hand returned my apparently worthless chip of plastic. Other customers pressed in from behind. I was dismissed, but I wasn't able to move. In my shock, I couldn't think clearly about where to go or what to do. My approximate itinerary was known to a few people, but I wasn't really expected anywhere by anyone for at least another twenty-four hours. Alone, in a strange city, I knew no one within reasonable driving distance. The next move was completely up to me.

Just get out of the way. The voice inside my head finally awoke and said something sensible. I retrieved the useless document from the clerk and returned it to my wallet. Still dazed and unbelieving, I reached for my suitcase and moved away from the counter. I thought I saw the sign for a pay phone. I didn't know who to call. But, standing by the phone kiosk, at least I could look productive. Maybe I'd think of something. I sat my suitcase on the floor and opened the directory. Tthoughts still not in focus, I absently flipped through the yellow-paged services section while my mind whirled.

First thing, I decided, was to take stock of circumstances. What, exactly, is the predicament? Essentially, I'm standing in a place almost two hundred miles from where I need to be. But, I reminded myself, my presence isn't required there until tomorrow. Even if I might not be spending the hours quite as I'd planned, time is on my side.

At last, a friend's name pops to mind; not a 'local,' but certainly accessible by phone. Together, we quickly review resources and possibilities. A completely different way of looking at this situation is necessary. If I can't drive, what other choices are possible? My wallet contains the requisite plastic cards, expiration dates far into the future, outstanding balances acceptably low; there's even some real money in my pocket. I'm already at an airport. Best option is to get on a flight to the town where the conference is located. Once I arrive, I'll think about finding transportation from that airport to the hotel where I've reserved room. I can only hope they'll have space for me a night early. I simply need to get there first.

A frugal traveler, I'm used to scheduling flights at least a month in advance. No such option existed at 11:30 in the morning on a day when I needed immediate transportation. Dollar signs spinning before my eyes, I phoned the local commuter airline. What, for me, seemed an amazing request was handled very matter-of-factly. The next flight to your destination leaves at one o'clock, I was told. Yes, a seat is available. A surprisingly reasonable rate was given. How soon can you be here? Right away, I replied. I just need to return to the terminal from a car-rental lot. Luggage? One bag, carry-on. In minutes, my reservations were set.

Hours seemed to pass as I waited for the shuttle bus. Ultimately, I was deposited at the proper airline, although with only minutes to spare. Paperwork completed, luggage checked and boarding pass in hand, I followed the attendant's directions to the gate. Speedily maneuvering the airport hallways, I cleared security, zoomed out the lower-level door, ran across the tarmac and climbed the stairs into the cabin of the turbo-prop. Stowing my bag under my feet and buckling myself into the seat, I took a deep breath. Step one accomplished. On my way.

As we flew into the first turbulence of afternoon Front Range thunderstorms, I realized I hadn't found time for a dose of the medication that quells my usual motion-sickness. Oh, fine, I thought, one more in the tally of items reminding me I need better ways to look out for myself, ways to avoid this harmful exhaustion. If I fall apart, how am I to function effectively for the others who are important to me, for the others who are dependent upon me? Definitely my challenge to ponder. And perhaps that's the biggest message of this adventure....

Although my stomach was in my throat through most of the flight, I tried to distract myself by watching rays of sunshine play hide-and-seek amidst low-hanging clouds. The airplane dodged and skimmed mountain peaks, arrived safely at the destination, and touched down without incident. Time to put my brain in gear once again.

Now, I had to find transportation from the airport to the hotel. Standing in the baggage claim shelter, I scanned the building for signs bearing the directional information I needed. Turning slightly to the left, I couldn't believe my eyes. He hadn't seen me yet, but I recognized the conference coordinator immediately. Weaving my way through the crowd, I caught his eye. He was as surprised to see me as I was to be there.

"You're not supposed to be here until tomorrow!" was his welcome. "And I thought you were renting a car."

"Long story," I replied.

"You can tell me on the way into town," he said, as we walked to his van. "I'm driving."

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