Strongly Worded

Fasten Your Seatbelt!

I traveled a lot as a kid, with my parents and brother. My entire extended family lives abroad, and we’d visit them every year, stopping somewhere touristy on the way. So I’ve traveled to over 20 countries (mainly in Western Europe—I am still eager to see many landmarks in the U.S., especially Yellowstone Park). I anticipated my childhood trips with great excitement. I loved the pre-travel shopping and the packing. I'd start packing weeks in advance. And then a few days before a long international flight, my mom would take me out to choose books and word puzzles and snacks. Specifically, I'd stock up on Combos (those “cheese”-stuffed pretzel bits), and Caramelo bars. In an effort to prolong the joy of the Caramelo goodness, I’d take tiny bites over the course of the flight, so that by the end, the remaining chocolate would be a melted, sticky mess. But flying was great. This was the age of the friendly skies! We got movies and meals, and often, because my brother and I were little and cute, we’d get free pins with airline logos and (a few times) peeks at the cockpit.

Now I am grown up and travel fills me with stress. I worry about bad weather, about missing a connection, about getting on the wrong flight. When I board the plane, I read the safety manual and closely follow the safety demonstration. Also, I have become an X-treme Packer. I have unreasonable urges to pack as little as possible, leaving behind even tiny, light-weight necessities that I end up lusting for as soon as I arrive at my destination. I'll convince myself that I don’t really need to floss away from home, and then leave the tiny, featherweight floss behind, only to literally gnash my teeth in frustration once I get wherever I’m going. Or, ignoring my constantly cold-running metabolism, I’ll neglect to bring a sweatshirt or a fleece because of the bulk, and then curse and shiver the whole time I’m away. I expected my period on the last day of my last trip to Rome, and accordingly packed a half-day of feminine care, expecting to encounter free supplies on the plane.

Well. Planes no longer provide free feminine care (or any feminine care, or any customer care, for that matter—now they charge “transaction fees” if you book a flight over the phone with an actual human agent. ) But by the time I learned this, it was a moot point, since my original flight was cancelled. It was Sunday, all of Rome was closed, and I was stuck trolling the streets in search of tampons and Italian ibuprofen during the extra day before the rescheduled flight.

So. I am leaving for California on Friday morning, but tonight I am going shopping. Sure as hell I’m packing some floss, at least one trashy book, and a fleece. AND a little tranquilizer for good measure.

Posted by Dori at 3:38 PM