an itinerant observer

“How do you possibly endure these journeys?” Family, friends and others keep circling back to the same question. Ten-hour overnight coaches across Turkey. Greyhounds on the U.S. West Coast and across Texas. And now, twenty-five hours of steel and scenery from Chicago’s Union Station to New York’s Penn Station. “I would take the train every time.” My short answer. Airports have long lost their allure. Domestic U.S. air travel is misery disguised as security: endless ID checks, fingerprint scans, facial recognition, shoes and belts stripped off, dignity reduced to whatever the conveyor belt spits out. You don’t fly, you flee. Amtrak felt different. No one asked for documents or biometrics. I could step off at Cleveland, grab a snack, stretch, and hop back on without fear of being flagged as an outsider. For once, travel felt like belonging. That sense of contrast sharpened when I thought back to Greyhound. I had done my share of long rides there too - up the West Coast and acro...

It wasn’t an ordinary day at work. I’d been called into the proverbial ‘supervisor’s office’ for a discussion about my recent projects. Fair enough, I thought. I’ve led programs in emergency medicine, innovation, wellness, and research. But no. This wasn’t about any of that. Seated across from me were two senior colleagues, firmly rooted in the traditions of academic medicine; faces tight, as if I'd ‘Zalsa’ed’ over a patient chart. Yes, you read that right. Not a research misstep, not an issue with departmental operations - dancing. Specifically, the Zalsa sessions I lead, share about, and - horror of horrors - post on social media. “It’s unbecoming of someone of your stature,” one said, with a look so grave you’d think I had performed a Zalsa routine on the hospital helipad. The other nodded sagely, as if this intervention might save me from further professional disgrace. For a moment, I wondered if I was in a workplace sitcom. Was this an episode of The Office: Acade...

The day I started believing in bucket lists coincided with the day salsa became a potential need, not just a want, for me to become adept at. Well…perhaps not salsa initially…it was really the tango that I fell in love with when I first saw it performed by Al Pacino in the much acclaimed ‘the scent of a woman’ .  Over the subsequent decade or so I felt a really strong urge to learn the tango. It remained an urge at most. I never proceeded to the stage of learning it in order to become a tango expert. Perhaps it was the lack of an equally excited partner to get me to actively pursue the most elegant of dances. After all, it does take two to tango. Photo credit: Riaz Khan,  a photographer based in Houston One fine night I was chatting with a friend at a restaurant in Rice Village in Houston. We were discussing ‘ the itinerant observer project’ , a potential book of short stories for which my friend, a freelance photographer, was going to provide a visual piece. We both had our i...