I fell asleep promptly last night at eight o’clock, in preparation for my long day. And it was quite a long day. I don’t mean long in the “Sitting through an extended edition of The Two Towers” way. I don’t mean long in a “taking the SATs for the first time” way. I mean long as in a “I think I’ll just jump on a plane and fly to New Zealand” kind of way. My day was nineteen hours long.

The gentle sounds of Billy Corgan’s guitar woke me from my sleep at three o’clock. I was sweating underneath my heavy down covers, and did not want to move from my bed. Upon finally turning the lights on and rising out of bed, I noticed that it was snowing, much to my surprise. I tend not to put my faith in meteorologists; they’re often wrong in the “you couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn” type of way.

A nice hot shower, a quick change of clothes, and I was out the door. The fresh powder slid off of my windshield with ease, and found a new home on my glasses.

Unlike a usual morning commute, today’s was exceptional. The trifecta of very early morning, “bad” road conditions, and only needing to drive three point six miles had me downright giddy. I have never seen the highway so deserted, or so obscenely beautiful, shiny and calm in a serene moment of pre-dawn bliss. (Yes, I of course took pictures.)

Arriving at the gate of my destination, I buzzed for the almighty security gods to acknowledge my prescence. The camera placed just above the speaker came to life, whirring and clicking, a ring of pure white light illuminating my face in the dark. I’m sure the combination of wind chill on my cheeks and blinding light in my face made for quite a lovely portrait of myself.

I knew the way from my trip here seven months ago, and I proceeded up the ramp, passed the second of too-many-to-count cameras, to the elevators, to the security desk, to the twisting hallways, to the cafeteria, to the metal staircase, to the break room where my coworkers were scarfing down soda and left-over hoagies from the night before. None of them had slept since their arrival twelve hours prior.

We made our way to our work room, a twenty-five foot by twenty foot area stocked with computers, monitors, hubs, switches, bridges, keyboards, mice, KVM switches, routers, tape backup units and their matching tapes, coils of ethernet cables, flashing LEDs, and other such friendly sights. The view from the room was spectacular. To one side, a foosball table, and to the other, downtown Philadelphia, a sight which would reveal itself many hours later once the sun finally found the energy to stand up.

The day consisted of many parts which are currently blurring together and vanishing from my mind. The combination of frantic work and then agonizingly slow waiting will cause you to find ways to pass the time. So we read, ate snacks, watched movies, ate breakfast, greeted arriving coworkers, ate, played games, discussed office intricacies, ate lunch, discussed politics, read some more, ate some more, read over one hundred and sixty pages of a book I had the foresight of bringing with me, ate dinner. This only occupied the first thirteen hours of my day.

Were we allowed to bring cameras beyond the parking garage, I would have snapped some of the most beautiful things I have ever seen. The crowds running in the fresh snow, the parking attendents slipping and sliding on ice, the steam rising off of skyscrapers, the parking garages filling, small icicles breaking making a break for it from their prison cells, only to be caught in an updraft and spin around in front of my eyes, hundreds of feet in the air.

From my view high in the air over Philadelphia, tucked away from all but a half-dozen other people, I watched the city unfold. I saw the sun rise brilliantly and yawn gracefully. I looked out in amazement as the pillars of steel and concrete surrounding me put on a light show, their offices filling up and clearing out. Everyone below me was oblivious to my gaze, but it felt as though they were performing for me.

I thought about immortality. I thought about how nice of a ride those three miles were. I thought about how many bottles of Sprite and orange juice I had consumed. I thought about where the closest bathroom was located.

Reality said to her sister Stress, “watch this effort in futility, watch them grow antsy and tired, watch them long for an end for this day”. Reality, to often being adored in the modern world, sometimes forgets that even she is fallible. For every minute I spent there, I wanted to spend two more. It seems Serendipity still knows how to pull a fast one on her sisters.

I can’t quite explain why I was so charmed by the experience. I see this city every single day. And it’s certainly not the biggest or brightest city I’ve ever laid my eyes on. But today, it just felt perfect. Everything was right. It didn’t matter that I was tired or cold, nothing could make me upset. Not the stiffness in my joints, not the overpowering roar of the machinery, not even the seventeen hours spent spent in two rooms. Everything just fit.

Maybe this is how some people feel when they first look out over New York city. Maybe this how some people feel when they climb a mountain. Maybe this is what it feels like to be rich and powerful, to look down over your dominion. To me, it just feels like happiness.

And I don’t think I’ll ever fully understand why.