Dear Travel
As I prepared to head to the airport for the first time in three months, my friend Cybill said to me, “You’ve got to write a blog about this. I need to know how it goes.” Cybill is one of those friends who asks you for something under the guise of it being for them, when really it’s something they know you need. This request gave me something more to think about as I returned to my old friend travel. And a metaphor came to mind. Here it is.
I was in a relationship with a man for over a year when one day, he decided to end our relationship in a text message. It was a letter of sorts, with paragraphs of explanation about how he thought it would be better to be friends. I was crushed, not just because our relationship was over—I saw that coming. What hurt the most was the delivery—it was so callous, cowardly and fully disregarding of me. I was plunged into the swirl of grief and sadness that breakups bring.
It struck me, this was strangely similar to how coronavirus ended my relationship with travel. Here I was in February, planning away trips here and there, trying to figure out how to fit everything into a super busy schedule. Coronavirus was whispering its way towards my life and then one day in March, it sent me a text message: STAY HOME. Your plans are canceled. No really. All of them. Go ahead and text me back, it won’t change my mind.
For many days, I was caught up in the swirl of uncertainty—how long will this last? Is it real? When will it end? The days stretched into weeks. Weeks of silence and solitude. Weeks of bouncing from uncomfortable feeling to uncomfortable feeling—would I get sick? Would my family be ok? Could I keep my business open? Is it OK to go outside? How am I going to get through this? I was grieving the loss of the joy of planning—which I know is simply an illusion of certainty.
Soon, the swirl settled, or more accurately—I stepped out of it. I surrendered to the peace of the stillness of life. I connected with my loved ones as best we could. I walked my neighborhood. And came to recognize that this stillness, this space, was a gift. Something I had been yearning for just a short few weeks before—time and space to just be was leading the way, rather than me having to fight to create space among the swirl of busy. As I settled into new routines, restlessness would come back to say hello and remind me, usually through “Facebook Memories” of how I used to spend my time. As it became clear that STAY HOME would be lifted, my number one priority was to be with my family. I decided to see what my old friend travel had in store for me.
My friend has changed. But they’re still there.
The drive from home to the airport was pretty smooth—traffic in early June in the DC area was still lighter than usual. This was super helpful because one thing had not changed…I was still pushing the envelope when it comes to leaving enough time to get to the airport. Ample parking spaces were available. Masked up, I walked in and made my way to the security area. There was no Pre-Check available, so I waited with familiar impatience and at a safe distance as a family figured out how to go through security. Most of the shops and restaurants were closed, but my trusty bottle filler was still available and I was reminded that my determination to make travel healthier is still alive and well. Especially since it’s now even harder to find whole, unprocessed food at the airport. Bring your own snacks, friends!
As I approached the gate area, I could feel anxiety rising. There were plenty of people in the airport. Some with masks, many without. No effort had been made to remove seating from the gate areas, so there was not ample space to wait to board while remaining distant. My old friend travel, it seemed, still had not worked out my number one pet peeve…a general lack of spatial awareness. I practiced my mindfulness exercises, deep breaths through the mask, finding a spot to wait and watch. It was at once both completely familiar and a completely new experience.
The boarding process has finally been organized to the point of making it bearable. 10 people board at a time. I hope travel keeps this because it is SO much better. There’s space on the plane, no stranger seated closer to you than you’d normally allow a stranger to be. There’s a peace on the plane that is unfamiliar but totally welcome. The flight itself is short, without food or beverage service, it’s almost serene. Completely familiar and completely new.
And then as we approach the landing, the phones of people who forgot or refuse to follow the rules begin to bing. And I wonder…you’ll wear a mask, but you can’t turn off your phone? Really? And unfortunately, the airlines seem to have lost their passion for controlling the process at this point of the journey…they just let everyone de-board…clustered together in the aisle, waiting impatiently. I arrived safely, and gratefully had a wonderful visit with my family. Weeks later, I am still healthy.
I see enough of the good qualities in my old friend travel that we’ll be keeping in touch now that we’ve reconnected. Who knows if our relationship will ever be quite as intense as it once was—and that’s ok. We needed to be on a different path anyway.