A response when asked about God

I suppose this story is as good of a first story as any other... I was approached by a lovely, yet uniquely annoying young woman who seemed eager to strike up a conversation. My own damned fault I suppose... I was sitting outside (I never sit outside) in the cool of the evening, simply enjoying the stars, as they surely must have enjoyed watching me in return. It was a wonderful evening at the end of September... I was wearing that awful yellow sweater I was given as a birthday-present. I had forced myself to wear it, so when the obscure relative who had blessed me with it eventually comes by to ask how I liked it, I can say "boy, it sure kept me warm on those chilly September nights!", rather than explaining the full truth, which was that I later used it as a burial shroud for my dead cat, and it is now resting in a shallow grave in the back-yard.
So there I sat, fulfilling some obligation to wear this thing, that truly, truly would have served the world better as a drag-anchor. Itchy, tight and miserable... And I am explaining all of this so you can fully understand how thoroughly I was enjoying the evening breeze. I was able to completely disregard this ear-wax colored death robe, and sit in amazement of the night sky. However, this moment, as all other moments, was destined to be short-lived. As if though I sat in the predestined path of an asteroid, I was in the line of fire of the annoying young girl.
She looked like she was 24-25 ish, blue jeans, sweater, rat-colored hair...a smile that just bothers you after a while...how can anyone be that happy without faking it?

"Hello sir! Can we talk for a second?" She said...still smiling...
Crap....it all makes sense...Friday evening, zealot-meeting at the church down the street, and here they come proselyting...
"Sure...what do you need?"
Why me?? Why the hell do they come after me? Is it the damn sweater? Do I look totally unsaved, or do I look like I'll be a good tither?
"Do you believe in God, sir?"
"Yup. I'm good"
"Well, mister-" she says, and puts her hand on my shoulder, "what are you doing about it?" smiling her most compassionate bullcrap smile, being so completely sure she now can dictate the upcoming rules of engagement... fine...here goes:

"Well Missy, let me tell you something...
A while back I was working for a company selling office furniture. My task was to convince the European market that somehow it was a wise investment to replace every office-chair with our new deluxe model. We had it all worked out too...we actually had charts proving, proving that your overall efficiency increased if your rear-end was cushioned properly. I had been given the difficult task of going after the stone-wall region. The Germans, Swiss, and Austrians. The weren't easily convinced. They expected a trial-run with a few chairs, they wanted testimonials and follow-up information from others who were using our products, they wanted to have their own teams review and test our chairs! What company has their own department that just tests stuff that the company is wanting to purchase?!! The companies within the "Germanic stone-wall"...that's who!
So, I step off the train outside a small town south-east of Saltzburg, only to discover that the train station is located two miles away from town. So, with my briefcase full of office-chair propaganda, my suitcase full of my essentials, and carrying a bright red, super-deluxe, cast-iron frame office chair (our signature model) I begin my walk towards town... The chair alone weighs sixty-two pounds, and it is a losing battle from the start. Rather than battling the chair, I decided to use it, and I loaded my other belongings into it, and pushed it ahead of myself down the dirt road. And make no mistake, this is Austria! The road may have been straight, but certainly not level, I would push, push, push to get up every damned hill, only to dig my heels in to control the rambunctious baggage cart/chair, that now with all my other luggage weighed in at well over one hundred-twenty pounds... I was sweaty, exhausted, and when I finally got in view of the town, I was at the top of a hill, with a long gentle slope welcoming you into town, almost as if though the road itself was apologizing for the hell it had put you through. I stopped there, at that hill, sat down, and wiped the sweat from my face with an old t-shirt from my suitcase. Then I proceeded to scrub my hair, my neck...and soon realized what a pointless effort this was. Two miles of mountainous hilltops and valleys can not be wiped away with an old t-shirt... So I just sat there. And suddenly I began looking around...I was surrounded by mountain-tops...everywhere! I was lost in awe...I don't know how long I sat there, but it was truly breathtaking. I stood up, as if though it would alter the perspective or something. It doesn't...
I hate words like "majestic" because it has become so generic...heck, I had a co-worker who described his wife's napkin collection as "majestic"...
I have seen mountains before. I have seen the Rockies suddenly appear as I've driven west through the Kansas plains... I have seen the ancient mountains in Scandinavia, weather-beaten and rounded down by the centuries. The Alps however was an unexpected wonder... You feel so completely in their domain, as if though you are surrounded by towering guardians, untouched by time, untouched by the elements...amazing...
In all honestly, I planned on rolling down the remaining hill firmly seated in my deluxe office-chair, waving my sweaty old grand-canyon t-shirt as a flag and screaming "I'm a Yankee-doodle Dandy" at the absolute top of my lungs. Exhaustion tends to produce insanity in my family... but there was something about those mountains that called for a certain reverence. I felt humbled, small... I walked gently down the hill, almost afraid of disturbing the moment I was in...I swear I could feel the mountains breathing, moving under my feet...I was so ashamed that I had been cursing and screaming for an hour as I had walked down the road...cursed the train station, cursed the stupid little village, cursed every rock, the chair, my shoes...anything, everything! I was embarrassed over my behavior. I had walked in the presence of the mountains and displayed the ugliest side of myself, the foul, arrogant, self-serving salesman who was irritated by any event that wouldn't add to the paycheck... What a fool I was...
I was just walking, breathing in the mountain air, feeling how clean it was, how cool it felt against my skin... before I entered into the town, I stopped again, and sat down in the grass on the side of the road. I put my hand against the ground and quietly whispered "I'm sorry, please forgive an old fool...". I laid my head down in the grass, and just laid there gazing at the snow-covered peaks far above me, and I suddenly felt like one with them. No longer the intruder, the irreverent visitor, but one with them. They were no longer protecting the valley from people like me, but I had been let inside, and I was protected by them, I was under their covering cloak... I had never before felt peace like in that moment.
I eventually got up, and walked into town, with a big silly grin on my face. I found my hotel, and jumped in the shower, as I only had an hour before my appointment. I was given directions by a kind gentleman at the hotel, and found the office-building with ease. It was the only building in town that rose up over three stories... It was an insurance company executive that I was going to see, and his secretary promptly called me in at the scheduled time. I walked in, and was greeted by the same dead stare that all executive officers have learned to greet salespeople with, leaving the air ripe with the scent of rejection. This is where I perform my magic, this is why I was sent against the stone-wall, with my fully loaded, armor-piercing briefcase.
But I wasn't even thinking about the sale. I walked in, shook the man's hand, and introduced myself. His name was Dieter, he had been transferred here from Mannheim nine months ago, and was still getting settled in... I had just come from Mannheim, so we small-talked about it for a minute or two, then I couldn't help myself... "These mountains are so... majestic!" I immediately kicked myself...how could I use that word? The napkin-word! "o yea? I haven't seen them yet.." Dieter responded. What a curious thing to say... I simply had to ask him what he meant..."well, work has been busy, I haven't had the time to go out looking around"
"That's not what I meant" I said "You don't have to go look for something, when you are surrounded by them...just come look!"
Before I thought it through, I ran over to the window, pulled up the blinds, and there they were, still there. Still steadfast and strong; silent and and powerful...I stood for a second with a cheesy grin on my face, turned to Dieter, and he looked at me rather puzzled... My mind started racing: what the heck did I just do, am I a complete lunatic, am I... And then I realized that he was standing there, next to me, with his jaw dropped, in the same amazement as myself. We stood there, quietly for twenty more minutes, we saw a storm building around the mountains, and as the rain began striking the window pane, and the view became blurred the mountains' trance was lifted, and we were just left standing there.
I rolled in the chair, gave him my card and said " If you find yourself in need of office furniture, I'd be honored if you would allow me to give you a quote sometime. Thank you for your time, Dieter."
"Wait, is that it? You traveled all the way here just to hand me a business-card? Aren't you going to give me the sales-pitch?"
"No," I said, "not here... it wouldn't be right... take care."

One month later the first order came to our company from behind the mighty stone-wall. I could hear my boss hooping and hollering with joy down the hall at the corner office:
"He really did it! That son of a gun did it!" The bosses' secretary came running into my office, beaming like the sun. A good day for the boss ends up being a great day for the employees. She tossed a heavy brown envelope across the room. It landed on my desk, and as I began reviewing the order-forms I found an envelope with five Polaroid pictures of my mountains inside. I cried like a child sitting there in my office.

So, little Missy, Do I believe in a God? Of course, all I have to do is look around me. What will I do about it? If you saw things from my perspective, that question becomes irrelevant. Best thing to do is to know that He is there, and walk with reverence."

I had kept the little zealot there for over an hour. These kids...she was probably upset that I stalled her out, so she was behind on her convert-quota.

I am Laban Falstaff

Greetings. I am Laban Falstaff... I call this Blog "The Last Vagabond" more out of the pressing need for a header than anything...so don't get too attatched to it.
I wanted to have a place to record my stories, my memories, and my experiences from my travels around the world, and since I'm too old just to sit on a park-bench waitng for some poor soul to sit down and so get trapped in my odd tales, it seems more efficient for me to put them all here, and you can come and be trapped at your leisure...
I am just an old man...I have no insights or wisdom to offer, unless it happens by accident. I have been aimlessly wandering the globe for so long, but never with any particular pursuit in mind. I have not sought wisdom or enightenment. I haven't been retracing the steps of some great explorer, or sought the halls of a long-forgotten king. I have walked from town to town in the pursuit of money. And no... not even in search of wealth, which would constitute a "pursuit"...I've only sought enough money to get me by until the next day or so...
I have been an artist, a painter, a travelling actor. I have been a fortune-teller, a singer, and a useless bum. I have been a capitalist, a socialist, a clergyman, and a military wash-out... Most of all, I have been a storyteller. This has been my most consistant role, which means I have a passion for B.S. (which has served me well in all the other professions as well) and that tendency to ramble on has helped me get food, lodging, friends... ehh...scratch that last one....
But the storyteller gig is what makes me come here and do this, so if I can stay on top of this and not get bored by reading my own stories, I'll try to keep you entertained for a bit... so enjoy.