In-Transit Passenger: Making the Journey Matter

By Robert Babirad

Leave behind who society tells you that you are and discover your real self by becoming an In-Transit Passenger.

If you left behind what was familiar and went back to your authentic self, where might that lead? In “In-Transit Passenger,” the main character leaves behind an unfulfilling life at a law office in order to find greater meaning and a more meaningful life. A seemingly routine trip by boat suddenly turns into something much more significant, taking the protagonist back in time to those “in-transit” moments of the past and in turn to a truer and more authentic self.Can a simple trip change you by becoming so much more? Become your own In-Transit Passenger by embarking on your own next voyage today.

• Language: English
• Publisher: TouchPoint Press
• Release date: Apr 6, 2021
• ISBN: 1952816300

Book preview

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THE LAW OFFICE AND THE FERRY

1 - PORT OF ENTRY

THEY WERE LIKE RATS SWARMING. One lawyer after another scurrying into the well of the courtroom, all dressed in suits and skirts in varying shades of black, most pulling a rolling bag that undoubtedly contained dozens of packed case files behind them. I will always remember the sound of the wheels scraping against the tile floors, and the rustle and hurried brushing of their suits and accordion folders rubbing against each other as they pushed to be the first to talk to the judge.

I love watching people fuck up their lives, one lawyer said privately with another after they both witnessed the fires of a divorce proceeding fan out before them.

At thirty years old, I had been working for free for a local law firm in the hopes of getting a job there after a seven-year full time job search. It was yet another internship. I had taken out the trash for the firm, made copies, written briefs and memorandums of law for which the firm had billed and collected (but for which I would receive nothing), ran back and forth to the bank, the laundry, and the post office for the lawyers and judges there, and made over an hour commute each way in city traffic to the office—all for free, full-time, and for six months. Today was going to be a big day. I was finally going to get an offer. I knew it. One of the partners wanted to see me after we finished for the day in her office.

Around five I went into the large office overlooking the city.

Please sit down. I want to discuss something that will be mutually beneficial, for both of us, she said. We’re very happy with the work you’re doing here. You know of course though, there’s nothing here for you. Janet is not leaving anytime soon, or Richard for that matter.

So, what is she proposing? She continued to lean back in her chair behind a massive oak desk. The flickering of a computer screen contrasted with the dim, strained light of the evening over the city, coming in through the open vertical blinds.

You are welcome to continue working for us for free, and you can take a piece of any business that you bring into the firm, she said. It will be mutually beneficial to all of us. I couldn’t believe it. Where was someone starting out going to get enough business to bring into the firm? So, six months working for free, and she was telling me that I could just continue to go on working indefinitely for free? Had it all been for nothing? I couldn’t believe what was happening. I was numb. I thanked her, but for what I had no idea. The room felt dizzying all of a sudden. I picked up my red accordion file, filled with documents that I had worked on, walked out into the now dark parking field outside the office, and began the hour-plus commute back home.

Back at home there was another email waiting for me on the computer. Thank you for your interest. We have had many qualified applicants for the position. Unfortunately, we have decided not to proceed further with your application, but wish you the best in your future career endeavors. This email was like all the rest, yet another rejection from yet another job posting, another nameless unmonitored mailbox, so don’t even think about replying, and on and on it went. The impersonal nature of it all chafed me, the way that modern society enabled people to not even acknowledge your existence and reject you automatically with a cold and detached email. It had all become too much. The seemingly endless, detached rejection letters and the scam nature of the internships and entire job search had left me searching, not for a job or career any longer, but for something more.

All voyages have a starting point. This particular one began on Governor Winthrop Boulevard in New London, Connecticut, after that very fruitful internship. I left New York City three days ago for Hartford, Connecticut. It was just for a weekend concert, a change of scenery, and a break from what had just taken place. I booked a concert for myself with what was left of the law school student loan money. I was going to enjoy one of these last remaining weekends of the Fall before the cold northeastern winter set in. Now that I was done at my unpaid job, I didn’t want to think about law, resumes, or endless online job applications any longer. I was done with all of the email rejections for jobs that often didn’t even exist or were already promised to someone internally. I was going to do something different. I was going to value myself again and not continue seeking my worth from others.

I was trying to put the seven-year full time job search behind me. The people, politicians, schools, and government institutions which had freely taken my money in the name of this or that certification, paper, license, or degree, now claimed indifference. This latest rejection and invitation to engage in a mutually beneficial relationship represented the end of a long journey of trying to fit in. I thought about my younger self, the person with dreams, the person who still saw the world as a place of open possibilities. What happened to that individual?

Interstate-95 North from New York City began at a right-hand fork after crossing the Throgs Neck Bridge and then continued through the Bronx. Manhattan was in the distance to the left and Long Island to the right as I approached. At night or in the early hours of the morning, the lights of the city, the bridge, and those on the distant shore combined to form a sparkling panorama of illumination against the dark. I thought about those lights that I had seen only a few days before when I made the journey up to Connecticut. They seemed to suggest the illuminating of a new and different future path. They also seemed to remind me of how important travel and being in motion had always been throughout my life. On my way back home to Long Island, I started thinking about what would come next.

A ferry runs from New London, across Long Island Sound to Orient Point, Long Island. It was a way to avoid driving back through the congestion of New York City, which seemed unbearable, especially now.

New London was an industrial Eastern seaboard city positioned on the coastline of Connecticut and about three hours from New York City. It was more than a city though for purposes of classification. It was a city that is also a seaport. A port is always the start to each new voyage. Different ports of entry lead to different voyages, next chapters, and subsequent experiences. There was not a singular and fixed port or point of entry, nor a correct one. Rejection had actually become a port of entry for me now to the next chapter of my life. My arrival at this Eastern seaport may not have been a coincidence after all.

Explorers and seekers seem to have a propensity for starting off on voyages from a port, often somewhere along a coastline. It was from coastlines that ships set off to sea, rockets took off for space, and planes have taken off in flight. The ocean or the distant horizon, which we experience from these vantage points may be the provocation. They are a constant and unchanging reminder that perhaps there is more out there for us. Traditionally, many well-known cities have also been built along coastlines. The proximity of the sea enhanced their ability to provide for the transit of goods and people into and out of them. Many airports were also built here with planes taking off one after another over the port’s adjacent body of water. At the coastline we ask ourselves whether there is more for us. The boxes that society told me I needed to fit into didn’t seem realistic at the shoreline.

Governor Winthrop Boulevard lead down and across a set of railroad tracks and seemingly dilapidated brick buildings to the ferry terminal. The point of departure was in an otherwise unremarkable, industrial location. The ferries were dispatched from a concrete field along the shore where cars wait in separate lines to be directed on board. Two ferries were departing on this particular morning. One was heading for Block Island, and the other for Orient Point, my next destination.

The cars were slowly directed, one by one, onto the ferry. Then, it was my turn. Caps were placed under the tires of my twelve-year-old vehicle, locking it into place, and keeping it from rolling during the voyage about to take place. I made my way through the rows of tightly packed cars in the hull of the vessel up the steep, narrow stairway to the passenger deck.

Shortly thereafter, the ferry began gradually moving out of the harbor and toward the open water of Long Island Sound. I was a passenger and in motion once again. My rejections had now become a port of entry to my future. Throughout my life, being in motion had been the only way that consistently put me in touch with who I really was and today I had been led back to it once again. The voices, advice, classes, and everything that I had been told or heard in the past was drowned out. I only wanted to listen now to the sage voices of the past that had spoken to me when I had actually been moving in the world. Those were the voices that had been truly wise and consistent. The Connecticut coastline with its shingled summer houses, and the industrial area of the port were moving further away now. The journey would be a little over an hour; and I had embarked. I had to figure out how to get back to who I really was. That was all that mattered now.

Your Passport

What upcoming voyages do you need to make a choice about?

2 - STABLE PAST POSITIONS

A COOL BREEZE HIT my jacket and the calm water and cool Fall weather felt refreshing. The city of New London and the shoreline of Connecticut had all but disappeared from view. A few houses along the rocky Connecticut shoreline were still visible followed by a small lighthouse on a bouldered and craggy promontory. We were nearing the deeper waters beyond the harbor, which would reduce the shoreline to invisibility. An hour would be adequate time to look back, as well as ahead. Maybe, it was good that the space of Long Island Sound needed to be crossed first before arriving at my next destination. Maybe, the real learning is between point A and B, rather than at Point A or Point B, I began to think. Life seemed to comprise a large degree of time spent out at sea, between two points. There was the familiar point of where we have come from and then that distant, relatively unknown point to which we were progressing.

Connecticut was no longer visible. We were on the open sea of the Sound. There was a peace out there with no land in sight. I saw a few jellyfish in the water near the hull of the ferry. It reminded me of a school field trip in sixth grade. We had gone to the beach to study jellyfish in their native environment. Those same jellyfish were still here. They reminded me that I could revisit experiences from childhood and the things that once amazed me. They were still here after all. This was a fixed position in my past that was still present even after all these years.

From the top deck one could not help but notice a white spinning bar at the highest point on the vessel. This was the marine radar, which enabled the ship to establish where it was, even without visible and physical points of reference. An established and unchanging point both at sea, such as buoys, as well as those on land, like a lighthouse, enable a vessel to determine exactly where it is at a given moment. Those points were unchanging even as the vessel itself was moving and changing its position constantly.

The marine radar made me think about how we navigate new situations by using our own stable and preexisting points of reference. A new situation may lead us to send a signal back to those fixed references in our past in order to determine how we should proceed going forward. These can offer us a degree of guidance as to what we do or do not want to do next in our life, or which direction we should or should not take. We are more effectively able to fix our own current position, even in an unknown place. The knowledge we have gained from our previous life experiences may be just as effective as the electronic signals being sent out by marine radar. Those experiences and the marine radar used by the ship may be a key to keeping both of us on course and collision free.

Leaning against the railing and looking out at the sea seemed to be a culminating experience after a challenging journey. It felt good though to be in motion, moving again, heading toward something, and leaving something behind. Thinking about it more, I had always enjoyed and learned something from those times when I was in motion, when I was heading somewhere.

I had been on a lot of journeys, and out at sea many times before. This was not the first time being away from all of the landmarks, which had previously been familiar. I would still need to move forward to something new. Yet, the thought persisted that it was always during those times of movement, between Point A and Point B, when I had learned the most and had changed the most.

Maybe, I had to go back and