Sleeping in a strange hotel room with a trash compactor working past 2 am is unpleasant. Then you realize there is a reason there are earplugs on the bedside table. This place always churns the guts of downtown at that ungodly time. I have been here before and forgot all about it. This is the amnesia that takes hold between my trips to this city where I feel mildly out of place no matter how many times I return. Something is off from the time I board the plane to here and see people carrying the backpacks with company logos on them. That is the majority of the travelers. I am one of them but I am trying to bury all signs of my provenance. I don't dress in the way that is the norm for my type - comfortable, casual and repeatable. The person does not have to have a uniform like the infamous black turtleneck but there are strong elements of uniform in concept - they would look much the same every time you saw them.
There is one look and they are settled in it. So imagine my surprise I walk into the office building, sleep deprived from the trash compactor sounds all night and see a woman walk down the stairs in a beautiful floor length floral skirt paired with a black top and nice gold jewelry. She stands out from the uniformed masses and makes me less self-conscious about opting out of uniform and being myself - that could mean different colors, patterns and styles over a period of time - lack of consistency. It seems we are both signaling that we don't wanted to be opted-in to default behavior and want to forge our own path - hers much bolder than mine which I am really happy to see. The woman fades out into one of the conference rooms and there I am in a sea of uniform the only splash of color and life gone.
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