When you were used to traveling by plane twice a year, you felt contempt towards people with ‘status.’ Always getting in line ahead of you, nabbing the seats with extended leg room, being bumped up to First Class. Jerks.
And then you get a job that requires you to fly for work and you put in your time and you suddenly understand that status is e.a.r.n.e.d. Not only by miles but by what it means to travel for work.
It means the obvious things, of course: being away from home and crappy airport food—but it also means learning how to be patient, kind, calm, and generous in situations that beg for impatience, hostility, anxiety, and anger. (And carbs and alcohol. Both of which you've given up while traveling.)
It’s running on shitty hotel treadmills in basements and converted storage closets because your training schedule calls for five miles and it’s dark outside and there are no sidewalks here and you are a woman alone in a small town.
It means sticky carpets and questionably clean towels and the decision to trust that the duvet really is fresh for each guest.
It means that on every flight there will invariably come the waft of a dirty diaper, straight into your nose at the exact moment you decide to take a soothing, healing, suck-it-all-in-breath.
It’s small talk with seatmates and hotel clerks who ask you—straight-faced—if you’re vising their piece-of-shit town for your one night stay for business or pleasure.
It’s constantly being ‘thanked’ or ‘rewarded’ with packaged food and more packaged food and cheesy pasta and fresh-baked cookies and free pizza at the manager’s reception. When you’re gluten-soy-and-dairy intolerant.
It’s changing out of work clothes and back into your (dirty) travel clothes in a dingy bathroom stall at the rental car place or the airport. And feeling genuine joy when said stall is the roomy handicapped one.
It’s businessmen on cell phones, thrusting their authority over armrests and aisles and pushing their way over you and past you on shuttle buses and elevators. Old-school politeness and chivalry be damned.
It’s seat mates looking over your shoulder, offering unsolicited and unwelcome advice and opinions on the state of education in this country when you simply don’t have the energy to dispute, argue, or put into place with the loads of research and numbers and stories that you carry in your mind and your heart that would blow this slimy man’s opinions out of the air and to the bottom of the ocean below.
It’s messed up sleep patterns thanks to time zone changes, questionable sleeping quarters, unbalanced blood sugar, and constantly catching up on the emails that were missed when you were up in the air, on the road, or leading a workshop.
It’s waking up extra early to review your presentation for the 50th time and to allow for a 15 minute padding because MapQuest and Google maps can’t decide if it will take you 15 minutes or 25 minutes to reach your destination and you don’t know the local traffic patterns and if there will be a Starbuck’s or a Dunkin Donuts on your way.
It’s germs and coughs and unexplainable stickiness.
It’s running through O’Hare every. single. time. And getting full-body pat-downs in one-gate airports.
It’s getting bumped from rental cars and hotels after delayed flights and 2:00am arrivals.
It’s missing Friday night happy hour with your husband because you’re two flights from home. And missing Saturday morning brunch because you’re not sure what city you’re in when you finally do hit the pillow and you need sleep, sleep, and more sleep before you can be a civilized human being once again.
It’s the lack of human contact and the newfound desire to hug the security woman as she checks for weapons and drugs.
It’s leaky liquids, trashed suitcases, smelly rental cars, and middle-seats, stuffed in-between two large, self-important men.
It’s wrinkle-free travel wear and comfortable shoes and ironing black pants two, three, and four times because checking a bag is out of the question.
BUT.
BUT.
It’s also exploring a new city—one that has swamps instead of mountains and whose largest employer is the federal prison.
It’s checking out new restaurants and grocery stores and the feeling of comfort that a chain restaurant can sometimes provide.
It’s schools with outdoor hallways and gardens and kids who cuddle up next to you to share their coloring and letters.
It’s teachers who wait past 3:30pm on a Friday afternoon to stand in line to thank you and envelope you in a bear hug because you gave them renewed hope and inspiration and they are grateful.
It’s the uncommon-but-not-unheard-of perks of a hotel room with a strong showerhead, spa shampoo and conditioner, a full gym, free WiFi, and a healthy breakfast spread. Or a rental car with Sirius satellite radio and a back-up camera.
It’s the gentleman shuttle driver who tells you that you have a beautiful smile as he lifts your suitcase up for you with a smile and a knowing nod.
It’s the service dog on the plane with the owner who tells you that they’re heading to a place where children are in trauma and they’re going to help. And she lets you pet the dog yourself for a bit and you, too, are healed.
It’s the amount of reading you get done and the uninterrupted work time that a two-plus hour flight provides.
It’s the unexpected upgrade to First Freaking Class where you’re given (more) food, a warm washcloth, a glass glass, and a friendly flight attendant.
It’s arriving home to a clean house and a fridge full of groceries because your husband gets it. And you.
It’s opening the door to be greeted with wet sloppy kisses because your dog is so incredibly excited to see you. Even at 2:00am.
It’s doing the work that you were meant to do. And if that work requires travel, than you learn how to do it. How to make it work, make it fit, make it suck less, make it ok. Make it a memory, a story, a tale for when you get home and someone aks you what you’ve been up to lately…
