Is it really about the meeting?

 

Like this, only in red.

 The venue was huge, Vegas huge.  There were giant fountains in lobbies, lush fake greenery around wagon-wheel light fixtures 10 feet wide, literal WALLS of color-shifting light that throbbed with whatever beat was bluetoothed to it, cavernous reception rooms, labyrinths of hallways, cacophonies of catering carts being pushed too fast by handsome young people who possessed a definitely practiced Jimmy Cagney flair.

And while it was certainly grand, it was also troublesome as I couldn't find the room I booked months ago.

I'd memorized the number and location and hardware assigned and the slides to be presented, but none of that was any good because it seemed like that particular brick-and-mortar location simply did not exist in this Gorgon of a meeting hall.  Walls moved, mirrors glinted with satisfaction of my confusion, bellhops ignored me, and the crowds of celebrating wedding guests from multiple receptions meant that getting to the concierge was impossible.

Madness, until I recognized someone from our team and tailed them to wherever they were going.  A brilliant idea.

Truly this person had a more intricate knowledge of the space than I (important to note that: I had never been there before but had studied the layout and specifics until I thought I knew what I was doing), as it took a snap to get to the room and then assemble the necessary presentations and seating to ensure a successful meeting.  

I was flustered, but ready. 

The team began arriving, animated and excited.  I couldn't tell why, as the scope of my work wasn't to be anything to make anyone act either of those ways.  But I couldn't get anyone to sit DOWN and therefore couldn't start the meeting as people were circulating around in small groups, chattering and tapping on tablets and showing one another so very many things.  Nobody spoke to me or listened to me; I, the leader, was invisible.

After a period of time I decided to simply move along, and began showing the initial presentation on the giant screen mounted in a corner of the hall.  Intro, agenda, topline messages, then chaos.  The screen detached from the wall and began to fall on the high-up muckety mucks on the dais, there was no help from tech to put it back on the wall and only the very most tenuous of connections that seemed to be structural, and yet, if I took a broom and pressed against the top to hold that part against hte wall, there could still be displays and presentations, only with me in the front of the room holding a broom while who-knows-who clicked through the slide decks.

Which, in the end, really didn't matter, because all the potential excitement and tablet-tapping of a few minutes before absolutely EXPLODED into general gasps and cheers as an announcement of some discovery of importance that directly affected OUR project was announced at some other venue that had been carefully tracked by everyone in the room (where I was supposed to make things happen, but that was all gone now in the thrill of the new thing).

It was obvious what needed to be done. I dropped the broom and walked out. 'Know when to say when,' my Dad used to tell me; it's a lesson to stitch on your pride.

So then I took a walk to a nearby park, forgot how to get back, my not-a-dog kept showing up, my husband was driving a four-in-hand to get people back to the venue because the bigwigs took the hired bus back to the venue and didn't tell any of the lesser mortals at the feste they were departing, once back at the meeting hall a small group of women were bidding on a dress  I'd brought with me for our 'formal night,' and yes this is all a part of the dreams I had this morning.

Also, it started to rain.

Tiff out.