71 Days to Ultraman Mexico

71 Days to Ultraman Mexico — Ghosts at O’Hare

I’m sitting in O’Hare airport, waiting for my delayed flight to Milwaukee. It was originally six hours late due to mechanical issues, then cut down to three. The first leg actually landed early, but another plane was still at our gate. By the time we got off, we probably would’ve missed the connection if it had been on time. Funny how these things work out. Ninety minutes by car, too far for a bus without bags in hand and too expensive for a one-way rental. The rescheduled flight moving up ended up being the best-case scenario.

Walking through O’Hare again was strange. I haven’t been here in years, though there was a time when it felt routine. Flying out from Connecticut for weeks at a time, passing through these same terminals, dragging the weight of relationships and future plans that no longer exist. Back then, Baltimore felt more like my axis than Chicago. Still, had life gone differently, I would’ve kept coming here.

Today it felt like chasing a ghost. Familiar places—the Cubs bar, the racks of Chicago sweatshirts—triggered an odd split. One foot in the present, one foot in the past. I waited for a familiar face to pass by, for recognition to set off the old cascade in my body. Instead, all I got was a reminder: identity is mostly stitched from memory. We live more from the past than the present, unless we deliberately work against it.

That old version of me—the one who walked these halls years ago—couldn’t have imagined this. Not even close. Conceptually, egoically, he might be disappointed in where I’ve ended up. Experientially, I think he’d be shocked, maybe even proud. I’m on my way to race at the triathlon national championships. Back then, the thought wouldn’t have even existed in my world.

I bought these tickets myself. I navigated the delays without panic. I even have enough cash in my account that, if I really wanted to, I could call an Uber for the 90 miles to Milwaukee. Not much money, and it won’t last long—but it’s enough. That matters.

The future is unknowable in ways we can’t fathom. No plan is certain. No fear is guaranteed. It can all change in ways beyond imagination. That’s where the true potential of life lives: in the unknown unknown.