Don’t get me started. The mere mention causes an allergic reaction. What, you might ask, has me breaking out in hives?
Travel.
Specifically air travel.
Therein lies my dilemma. I love discovering new places. The more exotic the locale, the better. My husband and I just got back from a trip to Europe, where we toured Berlin and London, staying with good friends in both locales. It was a trip of a lifetime and we had a marvelous time, drinking in all the sights, experiences and tastes. Making new memories. Taking a ton of pics. The problem with travel is the travel itself.
Starting with the stress of packing for a trip, hoping I didn’t forget any of my essentials, the list of which grows longer with each passing year. When I was younger, it was remembering to pack a toothbrush. Nowadays it’s remembering to pack my hearing-aid charger and the supplements I require to stay healthy, along with all the rest. Double the stress when you’re packing for different climates.
Then there’s air travel. From the moment you arrive at the airport, you’re basically on a conveyor belt in a processing plant on your way to becoming an anchovy in a can. I signed up both for TSA Pre-check and Clear, which means shorter lines going through Security, but if you travel Coach as I do, and like most folks, your comfort ends at the security checkpoint. I make flying more tolerable by bringing my own food and a Pashmina shawl to ward off the chill, but I’d have to be a magician to conjure up more legroom or a seat that reclines more than a scant inch.
“It’ll be worth it once we get there,” my husband is fond of saying. I grit my teeth before responding “It’s the ‘getting there I hate.’”
I’m reminded of a trip I took years ago with my ex. We arrived at the airport to find the seat I’d booked for our flight had mysteriously evaporated – due to a computer glitch, I assume. It was a full flight. My ex blithely informed me as he kissed me good-bye before heading for the gate, “See you at the other end.” No, he’s not a surgeon who needed to fly home to perform a lifesaving operation or a U.S. Senator whose presence was required on Capitol Hill for a congressional vote. Just a guy who figured his wife had gotten unlucky but would get it sorted out and arrive home eventually.
Talk about a wakeup call. Is it any wonder that trip ended (years later) in divorce?
Luckily I’m now married to a wonderful man who would give up his seat for me and has on more than one occasion.
So what’s a little inconvenience, right? Making good memories starts with your traveling companion.
P.S. My first trip to London, in the 1980s, resulted in the scene in my first novel, GARDEN OF LIES, where Rose finds the shoes she set outside the door to her hotel room to be polished the night before still unpolished come morning. Back then (don’t know if it’s still true) the policy of the Savoy in London was to only polish the shoes of male guests.
Connect with me on Instagram where I post images of my trips and life around NYC.
I agree with you, as do most people. Flying is a nightmare and a necessary evil. Once, and only once, I treated myself to first class and it was an entirely different experience. It can’t fix the packing situation, but it sure is comfortable.
I hope you are well and enjoying the summer. Take care of you.
Anita
The problem with flying First Class is there’s no going back to Coach after that. You know what you’re missing.
I LOVE your books and own ALL of them. I was wondering if you have any swag you would be willing to send to me. Thank you in advance.
Hi Margaret! I won’t have any swag, per se, until closer to the publication of my next book, but I could send you an autographed bookplate. Just need an address.