okay...maybe not life, it's not like I've become George Clooney's character in Up in the Air or anything, at least not yet. I have managed to log a ton of flight time this year, and pad my mileage account and my hilton honors points. The folks at Virgin Atlantic know me, the breakfast host at my hotel in London recognizes me and welcomes me back now when he sees me and when I checked in the other day, the clerk at the front desk remembered I had been here recently without the computer prompting him to say welcome back (I wasn't at the front of the que checking in when he welcomed me back). I have apparently done a ton of travel this last year. I've crossed the country and back....I've crossed the Atlantic and back...and back...and back. I have been to big global cities and smaller ones. I've had great flights on amazing airlines, decent flights on not so great ones...and crappy flights on once great airlines. I've eaten good food in bad airports and bad food in good ones. I can get a week's worth of travel into a carry on bag...no, seriously. There are a few things I need to get off my chest, and since I'm on day 3 of a 19 day trip, I figured the time was now.
I am the experienced traveler at the airport...and I can spot a novice from a mile away. There is a line for you...really, I'm not kidding. And it's not the same line as me. And I don't care how frequently (or how hot you are) you fly Daddy...when you're traveling with the wife and kids, you DO NOT get to use the experienced traveler line. You might be, but the rest of your family is not. As I'm self-checking in, or as I'm walking to security, the belt is being pulled off and stowed in the carry on. The coat is already there. The wallet and blackberry have been stowed. I have no jewelry to take off by the time I get to the line. I have my laptop out in one easy movement and am zipping the carry on again as I take my shoes off. I know that the shoes go right on the belt and don't have to have a bin. But, more importantly, once I'm through the scanner or XRay machine (ok...tangent here...really, if you get sent to the scanner line...be thrilled somebody is looking at your junk, do what you need to do without shouting about the infringement of your privacy and move on. There are other methods of travel and if the TSA is that much of an inconvenience for you...we frequent travelers would much rather you take the bus anyway...okay, rant done.) I have thrown my slip on shoes on the floor and am slipping into them as I'm picking up my laptop and my carry on and getting out of the way. You do not, repeat, do not put your shoes on, put the belt on and get yourself ready again whilst standing at the security xray machine, backing everyone else up and just annoying them. I'm just saying.
I've been delayed departing...circled before landing...and even been on flights that have arrived early. It's been a pretty amazing year. All told, by the end of the year, I will have spent about 80 days on the road for work...I'll have logged 24 flight segments - which averages to 2 flights a month and just over 6 days a month away from my own bed. I LOVE my job. I love that I get to travel. I love that I've seen London, San Francisco, London, San Antonio, London, DC, London and Singapore, and many more by the end of the year. I love that by accumulating points and miles I sent my parents away for their honeymoon. I love that as I continue to travel, that's a tradition I hope that I can keep up over the years and keep giving them memorable trips.
I love that I get to send my nephews post cards from all over the world. I love that they have a scrap book of cards that I've been sending since I started traveling. I love the my youngest nephew has postcards from trips while he was still in utero. I love that they have tshirts and souvenirs from places that people in my hometown don't know where to find on the map. I love that my friends are jealous of my travels...whether they admit it or not...I hate how that sounds.
I hate that hotels have the same horrible art all over the world. I hate that no matter how hard I try...a hotel bed just isn't as comfortable as the one at home. I hate that no matter what I pack, I always seem to forget something I would have liked to have worn. I hate the looks I get some places when I walk in and ask for a table for 1...my money is just as good as everyone else's...and I'm much less work than a table of 5...really. I hate that this many days on the road does nothing for my love life. I hate having to explain on a first date why I won't be around for a second for another week or 10 days as I'll be on the road...that second date never happens. I hate that my nephews don't have a Flat Stanley in their class...Uncle Greg would so get them a winning classroom easily...I mean who else could have Stanley standing on the SNL stage one week, in front of Big Ben the next and then on the Golden Gate bridge a month after that?
I cannot complain about my life. When I talk about wanting to be in my
own bed...it's not a complaint about my job or the amount of travel I
do...it's just that after logging all this time away, I want to be in my
own bed when I am home. Yes, I chose this job and I LOVE it. No, I was
not accustomed to doing this much time on the road before this year, but
I'll get used to it. I have friends in cities all over now (and yes, a
few of them are flight attendants and neither of us can be called
Virgins any longer...but that's another post) and I love that I get to
catch up with some of them on my journeys. This has been an amazing year at 30,000 feet...and even when my feet are on the ground!
