(Travel) Tidbits #4

Going on vacation is such a production! With all the planning, packing, driving, flying, laying over, picking up, hauling, situating, sightseeing, repacking, hurrying up, etc, etc it's no wonder we don't do it very often. As if that's not enough, you have to find: someone to take care of your pets, someone to cover your shifts at work, someone who wants to spend vacation time with you, someone who wants to look at your pictures...

It's exhausting to put it all in place.

But we earn those chores, dammit. I worked hard all summer to merit the right to jump on the hamster wheel of travel. And so I've done it. I've been home for four days and I think I'm almost back into the routine of being here again. Talk about jetlag. I have what the ENT calls "motion sensitivity" so my travels on planes, trains, and automobiles often end up with a nice case of vertigo. The best way to explain how I feel after a lot of travel is to have you imagine walking through the Fun House at a carnival where the floor moves up and down as you try to walk through upright. That's my world after travel. Sometimes, (like this time) I'm lucky and I only get the slight light-headed wooziness for a few days. The floor has been steady and solid this go-round.

I probably sound ungrateful for a vacation. I'm not ungrateful. I enjoyed some warm California sun and saw some really cool places during my visit. I had good company. I ate well. I even got a little tan. But if I'm honest, I was confronted with demons from my past that won't quit howling at my door. Much like traipsing the steep paths of Yosemite National Park, my footing is challenged. I need some maps, some good hiking boots, maybe a GPS for my heart. I think the jetlag I'm experiencing is not from being in an airplane, rather from the whirlwind of moving so many times in the last decade trying to find a place where I belong. There's some pensive pondering taking place, and I desperately wish to rein it in so I can be comfortable with who I am.

At least the microcosm of the airport was entertaining. I found it interesting that the computers you can pay to access in the terminal of an airport fetch a buck for every four minutes. A tidy profit, eh? I'm always appalled that the food courts in the airport are allowed to charge you almost double for a quarter-pounder just because you are stuck there at their mercy. I call bullshit! God help you if you want a cocktail during a layover.

The security screening is always a jolly time too. I didn't once make it through a checkpoint without having someone dig through my duffle bag while I watched. Once it was oddly laid out sheets of Sudafed and Benadryl, another time a bottle of water, another time no known reason to dig through my bag. I didn't know you couldn't have lighters in checked luggage, so I handed that over to the man I saw digging through the bag ahead of mine upon my first departure. "Let me save you some time," I said to him as I unzipped the compartment and relenquished my new green Bic. And when I opened my checked luggage when I got home I found a nice little card from the TSA saying my bag had been physically inspected. I think it's funny that they put the card in there now. They know you are gonna see that it's not packed the way you did it, don't they? It's like the card should read, "Uhhh, yeah, we looked at your dirty underwear and souvenirs but we were unable to put things back so you wouldn't know we rifled your suitcase. Sorry."

Travelling is a world all its own. One of my favorite pastimes while waiting in airports is to take in the fashion show around me. Man, some people totally overdress. Who are they meeting on their destination end? Other people look like they rolled outta bed, picked up their bag, and got a ride to the airport. And there's the mandatory business guy traveller--always in a suit and always carrying a laptop. Me, I always go casual comfortable. I have to admit that I stress a little about dressing for travel though. It's not because I'm worried about how others will view me, it's because I am usually going from a cold place to a warm place or vice versa. I want to hop off the plane ready for my weather, but if I do that, there's going to be discomfort in my temperature when I leave. As with everything in my life, I strive for that in-between that will allow me to be temperately satisfied.

I feel sorry for parents who travel with little kids. It's hard enough to drag your own stuff through the obstacle course that is an airport, much less yours and your kids' belongings. And kids, for the most part, don't travel well. I recall how drained I feel after long lines and too many people. Parenting is a tough job on a day with no travel, so hats off to those who get their families to their destinations!

Standing outside of the Denver terminal to suck in some nicotene, I stood watching intently the shuttles, taxis, personal pick-ups of the arrivals area. Sooo interesting to see people catching their rides!! A TSA official who was finishing her cigarette looked at me quizzically and asked if I was waiting for a personal pick-up or if I needed help finding my shuttle. Oops. I didn't mean to look that intently on the scene before me. I explained that I was on a layover and just getting a smoke. A Sheryl Crow look-alike, a group of excited girlfriends, a guy who thought I might know where his shuttle would be, two women, one dressed casually with pumps and the other dressed nicely with tennis shoes, and many others entertained a portion of my time in the chilly, shaded underpass that is the arrivals area.

Back in the terminal awaiting the last leg of my air travel, an old man and woman waited in the same gate area as mine. He was smitten with her, wrapping his arm around her as he showed her off to his new friend. She was coy back at him, tilting her head and offering her cheek for a peck. Hurried travellers jogged to a gate that was closing, weary people trudged in to find a seat to wait, others milled impatiently. A young girl sat on the ledge of the window that overlooks the tarmac explaining to a concerned party on the other end that she'd be back in January for her birthday, but only for a few days. Tears filled her eyes with the reply of the party on the other end, and she walked away. She clung to the phone and the person to whom she spoke, pacing the area looking teary-eyed until our flight boarded. Another man with a hooded sweatshirt jacket, work boots, an orange baseball cap, and oddly, a laptop, bantered with a man several rows away from him. An eclectic group of people sported brand new World Champion Cardinal redwear. Many people put their noses in books to pass the time. Some people scarfed down fast food while they waited. Almost everyone checked his or her cellphone and used it.

Yep. Travelling is interesting. I'm always reminded how insanely different we are when confronted with such a diverse population as maneuvers through the maze of airports. If you travel, take some time to watch the drama around you. Two-hour layovers are not nearly enough time to take it all in. Oh, and make sure your socks don't have holes in them because you will be throwing your shoes into the tub at the conveyer belt of the security checkpoint.