Grounded Ambitions

As the taxi sped away, Lawrence dashed into the airport, eager to put the peculiar encounter with Walter behind him. Inside the bustling airport, Lawrence's strides turned into a sprint. He ran at full speed, his mind a chaotic swirl of thoughts. Oddly, the encounter with Walter lingered more prominently than the pressing matter of catching his flight. Images of Walter's optimistic grin and his harebrained business idea, 'links.com,' played on a loop in Lawrence's mind.

While sprinting through the bustling airport, Lawrence couldn't shake the persistent thoughts of Walter's peculiar proposition, which had inexplicably taken precedence over the imminent conference presentation. The unexpectedness of Walter's optimism and the stark contrast with Lawrence's pragmatic nature seemed to be the source of this mental preoccupation.

However, a sudden and inexplicable shift occurred within him, akin to a switch flipping. Lawrence found himself unable to sustain his rapid pace. His legs, previously carrying him urgently, now threatened to give out beneath him. Despite his determined attempts to will them forward, an invisible force resisted, creating a surreal disconnect between his mind and body. His pace slowed to a walk, defying his internal commands to hasten his steps. Strangely, he experienced no physical exhaustion or breathlessness. It was an odd and unexplained cessation of momentum. Amidst this bewildering episode, a familiar voice penetrated the clamor of the airport.

"Hastings! Hastings!"

The familiar call of Walter echoed through the air, prompting Lawrence to turn around. Surprisingly, his legs were now cooperative, guiding him towards the source of the voice. The strange episode left him disoriented, his thoughts tangled in a web of confusion. Lawrence was further astonished to find Walter rushing towards him, holding his briefcase. The realization dawned on Lawrence that he must have left it in the cab, a fact he hadn't grasped until that very moment. How could he have been so careless?

Walter, somewhat out of breath but radiating satisfaction, handed Lawrence the briefcase. "You left this in the cab, my friend. Lucky, I noticed and looked for your number on the business card." Walter grinned, showcasing the business card that Lawrence had pretended not to have earlier. "Turns out you did have some business cards, Hastings. I guess you missed them!"

Lawrence, caught in a mix of embarrassment and gratitude, mumbled a quick thanks. His plan to avoid encountering Walter again by pretending not to have any business cards and providing a fake number had unraveled due to his own absentmindedness. Walter, oblivious to Lawrence's intentional deception, continued his animated explanation.

"I called the number, and I heard the phone ringing in your bag. That's when I decided to get out of the car and start running around the airport to find you!"

"What about the cab?" Lawrence asked, puzzled by how quickly Walter managed to park it.

"I've got it parked at the terminal," Walter replied casually.

"It's probably going to get towed!" Lawrence exclaimed, wondering what kind of fool would leave his cab idling at the terminal. "The airport has strict rules about that."

Walter shrugged. “When I realized you left your briefcase, and I had couldn’t call you because your phone was in it, I figured I had to get it to you, and I would take my chances.” Despite Walter’s annoying personality, and childlike optimism, Lawrence couldn’t help but admire the man’s willingness to help a stranger, at potentially great cost to himself. Not only was Lawrence using valuable time of his own that he could have used making money on his next ride, but he was risking a hefty fine and towing fee. There aren’t too many cab drivers in Boston, that’s for sure, Lawrence mused to himself.

Even though Walter had his car parked at the terminal and Lawrence was running late, Walter still awkwardly held up the conversation. Despite Walter's annoying persistence, Lawrence felt obligated due to the huge effort Walter had made to get his briefcase back. Without his computer or phone, Lawrence would have been completely unable to give the presentation scheduled for later that day. As a gesture of gratitude, Lawrence attempted to give Walter a wad of cash, but Walter vehemently declined.

The exchange reached comical proportions as Lawrence tried to drop the bills into Walter's hand, but Walter refused to take them, the money literally falling onto the airport floor. The two men stared at each, as if playing a game of chicken over who would bend over first to pick up the money. It was Lawrence who finally relented, a capitulation that would foreshadow their future relationship.

"I think this all worked out for a reason because you gave the wrong number to your office, but thankfully, I got the real one now!" Walter exclaimed, seemingly oblivious to Lawrence's intentional actions.

“Sure did,” Lawrence replied, without conviction.

Walter concluded with enthusiasm, "I'll call you to do that trust that I need to get done!"

“Tell you what,” Lawrence said. “Since you went out of your way for me like this, how about I do it for you at no charge?”

As the words came out of Lawrence’s mouth, it almost seemed like it was someone else talking, not him. What was he thinking? Yes, it was true that Walter had saved his neck at great personal cost by bringing him his briefcase. Nevertheless, although his career was young, Lawrence had learned the hard way one of the most important rules of being a lawyer, which was never to promise free work. It always comes back to bite you. Moreover, even if you added up the likely fine Walter was facing, and the lost fare that his time cost him, it would not come close to equaling the value of Lawrence’s services in creating an estate plan for him, even a basic one. While it sounded snobby, the truth was the value of Lawrence’s time was much greater than Walter’s.

“Wow, that is so generous of you!” Walter said. “I just knew when I woke up today that something great would happen to me. Turns out it was meeting you, Mr. Lawrence Hastings.” Walter took an exaggerated bow and mimicked tipping his hat.

“A simple will, it’s nothing,” Lawrence said.

“Well, it might not be so simple,” Walter said. “Remember, with my links.com business ready to explode any day now, and that trust or limited partnership I need to set up, it will probably be just a wee bit more complicated than your usual case. But I know you can handle it. You are a great lawyer, I can tell.”

“I’ll do the best I can for you,” Lawrence said. “But I really must be going now. I was already running late and now I’m worried I might miss my flight.” He turned and resumed his run towards security, finding that his legs were working again, thankfully. Hopefully, Walter would forget all about this encounter, and Lawrence would never hear from him.

Lawrence finally made his way through security, his thoughts now fully consumed by the impending conference in Chicago. The weight of his briefcase, crammed with meticulously organized notes, mirrored the pressure building within him. For Lawrence, the upcoming presentation was more than just a routine professional engagement. It symbolized the culmination of relentless effort and strategic planning. Lawrence had invested considerable time cultivating a reputation, contributing scholarly articles, and establishing himself as an expert in estate planning. Securing a speaking slot at the conference wasn't merely an honor; it was a strategic play to position himself as a thought leader in his field. The stakes were high, and Lawrence knew that a successful presentation could catapult his law practice into the spotlight, attracting high-profile clients and lucrative opportunities.

Yet, woven into the fabric of his professional aspirations was always his primary mission, a highly personal one. Money didn’t mean that much to him, but he had this boundless desire to please his wife, Emma, at any cost. And she was a difficult one to please indeed. Nothing he seemed to do or buy for her ever seemed good enough. Yet he never stopped trying. He might never admit it, but that was the real reason he was working so hard to build his law practice. To finally prove to Emma that he could give her the life she wanted.

After narrowly making it through airport security, Lawrence found himself rushing toward the gate. His mind echoed with the cacophony of terminal announcements and the shuffle of hurried travelers. He was acutely aware of the ticking clock, each passing second amplifying the urgency of his mission.

As he reached the boarding area, Lawrence's pulse quickened. The looming departure gate represented both opportunity and anxiety. The prospect of showcasing his expertise at the conference was exhilarating, yet the burden of expectations bore heavily on his shoulders.

His path intersected with a sea of faces. These strangers were oblivious to the internal turmoil of a man on a mission. As he passed by the hundreds of other people going about their business in the airport, Lawrence felt the eyes of his colleagues, competitors, and the industry elite figuratively scrutinizing his every step. Which was ridiculous, because he knew these were strangers, completely unrelated to the conference. His hallucinations merely underscored his nervousness and excitement. He couldn't afford to falter.

While waiting to board, Lawrence's mind oscillated between rehearsed lines of his speech and the potential networking opportunities that awaited him. He envisioned forging connections that could elevate his practice to new heights. The airport's constant hum provided a backdrop to his mental preparations. The anticipation of what lay ahead mingled with the pressure to deliver a presentation that would not only solidify his professional standing but also contribute to the financial success he sought to achieve for Emma's sake.

Yet, beneath the veneer of professional composure, doubt lingered. What if his expertise wasn't enough? What if the audience failed to see the value in his insights? The pressure intensified as the boarding call echoed through the terminal, signaling the imminent departure of his flight.

Boarding the plane, Lawrence found his seat and settled in. The confines of the aircraft became a cocoon of nervous anticipation. His palms slightly clammy, he toggled between reviewing his presentation notes and glancing at the window, the aircraft's engines humming with potential and uncertainty.

As Lawrence settled into his seat on the plane, ready for the three-hour flight, he couldn't shake the unsettling feeling that something wasn't right. Just as he was about to power off his phone, it buzzed with an incoming call. The area code was 312, but he didn't recognize the number, which normally meant he would not answer. The phone rang four times and was about to go to voicemail when something clicked in his mind. 312 was a Chicago area code, the site of the conference. Hesitating for just another moment, he reluctantly answered. It was Thomas Harris, the organizer of the conference.

Lawrence felt a knot tightening in his stomach. "What happened? Is everything okay?"

Thomas hesitated for a moment before delivering the bizarre excuse. "It's a zoning issue. Can you believe it? Someone blew the whistle on us, claiming we're running a legal conference in an arena zoned strictly for trade shows. It's absurd, I know, but the city is making a fuss about it. We have to postpone the event until we sort out this mess."

Lawrence blinked, trying to process the information. A zoning issue for a legal conference? A whistleblower? "But how does that even make sense? The difference seems so trivial."

Thomas sighed, "It's the bureaucracy, Lawrence. They love their rules. Some whistleblower decided to make a fuss, and now we're caught in red tape. We're doing our best to resolve it, but it'll take time. I'm really sorry about this."

Lawrence leaned against the airplane window, frustration building. Something had always seemed a little off about Thomas. Lawrence had never quite trusted him but had merely shrugged off his concerns. Now, he struggled to find the right words. He had invested time, effort, and money into preparing for this conference. The absurdity of someone reporting a legal conference in an arena zoned for trade shows left him flabbergasted.

"This is unbelievable. I've been looking forward to this, and now it's all falling apart because of a zoning technicality? Who would even bother reporting such a thing? Not to mention that the conference is tomorrow morning. I’m on a plane right now about to take off!"

Thomas sounded apologetic. "I wish I had better news, Lawrence. We're doing everything we can to reschedule, and your slot as a speaker is secure. But for now, we have to navigate through this bureaucratic maze. I understand if you're upset."

Upset was an understatement. Lawrence felt like he was trapped in a bad dream. "I'll figure out my next steps," he muttered, his mind already churning with disappointment and frustration.

Disbelief washed over Lawrence as he contemplated his options. With the conference canceled, he had to get off this plane. He couldn't bear the thought of enduring a three-hour flight to Chicago for a canceled conference. The plane was past the departure time but hadn’t yet started to taxi. Hopefully it wasn’t too late.

Lawrence's heart pounded in his chest as desperation gripped him. He refused to accept defeat. "You don't understand. This is an emergency. I can't be on this flight. I need to get off."

Cynthia, the stern-faced flight attendant, sighed, maintaining her composure. "Sir, I cannot reopen the cabin doors once they're closed. It's a safety protocol. You'll have to remain on the plane."

Lawrence weighed his options, contemplating whether he should cause a scene to force his way off the plane. He had seen news stories about unruly passengers being removed, but the consequences of such an act flashed before his eyes. Arrest, potential legal trouble, and a tarnished reputation. He couldn't risk it. Reluctantly, he returned to his seat, feeling the weight of an unnecessary journey settling over him.

The flight attendants eyed him warily, and Lawrence felt a wave of embarrassment. Resigned to his fate, he sank into his seat, gazing out the window at the endless tarmac. The plane taxied toward the runway, and Lawrence couldn't shake the bitter taste of this absurd and frustrating situation. Stuck in a metal tube hurtling through the sky, Lawrence stewed in frustration, the minutes ticking away with each passing mile. As the plane touched down in Chicago, he faced the daunting task of rescheduling his return flight, a bitter realization of time and money wasted.