by Sean Boling
Part of the challenge was finding a way to borrow ideas rather than steal them, to combine parts of what he was observing into a copyrightable whole. The notion that technology is only as good as the teacher using it haunted him through the banquet rooms and buffet lines, but Rod’s golf buddies wouldn’t worry about that. Their job was to promote their products, not question them. All Dale had to do was get those classrooms wired, and then he could work out the kinks in his ideas with the help of his teachers. Not just the gifted ones like Isaiah and Shirley, but the albatrosses as well, since they would have keen interest in anything that would allow them to pull a string rather than have to supply a voice.
The fun construction story that he had brandished did come in handy at the lounge just off the lobby and at the breakfast bar. Comforted by the knowledge that he was moving past the story, and would not be defined by it, he enjoyed fielding boozy requests to expand on his adventures in tractor dealership conversion. And though he had never been confident in his ability to recognize flirting, even before marriage took him out of the dating scene thirty years earlier, he got the impression that more than one of the requests was of that timbre.
Dale enjoyed the feeling without being the least bit tempted. He had heard from multiple sources that one of the reasons people stray is thanks to their love of the pursuit, and their dissatisfaction with the protocols of a relationship. Even if he wasn’t satisfied with Alma, or wasn’t worried about upsetting a family that provided him with so much purpose, he still wouldn’t be interested in any of the implied offers. He already had a pursuit he loved, a professional one.
And while he felt a little bit like he was about to sing for his supper on his way to the Biltmore Hotel upon receiving the call from Rod, he thought about his family, the people in his life who brought him permanence, and how his love of the chase was in their name.