Roadtrip and Reality

I wish the title was more reflective of some exotic location like Egypt, Bora Bora, Australia...anywhere but Pennsylvania? 

Note: I started to write this blog a few weeks ago but since then, my emotions have been on a total roller coaster therefore I never got to finish it and honestly, my feelings towards this state is not so positive right now although I know that not all that live there are selfish ignoramuses who decided to vote for the horrendous Orange Ball of Shit. Sure, I believe that.

But I was there, and at that time, it was just turning from the vibrant colors of summer to the warmish tones of autumn. If you had no clue, I absolutely love this particular season. The very idea of sweaters, outerwear, scarves and fuzzy socks bring me to the edge of ecstasy...well it used to. Now, thanks to crossing over the threshold of a woman of reproductive age to, not so much, hot flashes have become my constant companion. I'm going to tell you men out there who may be reading this, if the females in your lives suffer the absolute chaos of peri-/menopause, please be kind to her. For real. Just support her. The first stages of this particular period (no pun intended) of life suck-eth and it's a true adjustment, physically as well as mentally.

Getting back to the point of this blog, I had a few days of PTO that needed to burned and instead of heading to the Blue Ridge Mountains, I decided to try something different. Pennsylvania seemed good enough with rolling land and absolutely scads of miles to drive without the annoyance of heavy traffic. Also armed with memories of a past where I had visited Lancaster to gawk at the Amish (who I'm sure appreciated it very much indeed), I hopped into the car after work on a random Wednesday evening. I should have known that nothing, and I mean nothing, is ever so smooth in this area.

For those who also may not know which geographic area I reside, I'm in the DMV (District of Columbia, Maryland and Virginia) area. The trip should have been maybe 1.5 hours +/- here and there. But was it? That's the burning question. No. It took damn near 2.5+ hours. And them rolling land? It was pitch dark as soon as I hit the main road that would lead me to where I was going so those lands were lurking in the background somewhere. 

By the time I got into the small town of York to meet folks for dinner, I was at the point of saying, "why did I do this?" but after a few drinks, okay-ish food and music that was way too loud for the pub/restaurant that was chosen, my mood was swinging upwards.

The next morning, I woke up, got dressed and eager to hit the road to explore. But first, breakfast. I found what seemed like a pretty popular spot called "Round the Clock Diner". It wasn't too crowded which I admit I was thankful for as I'm not a huge fan of crowds. Here's where being a brown person in a place that is predominantly white comes is just...uncomfortable and NOT imagined.

As I was lead to the booth I would inhabit, I felt eyes on me. Was it imagined? You may think so but I saw far too many curious eyes on myself. I'd like to think it was because I'm so beautiful that I took everyone's collective breathes away but nay, that likely was not it. Sitting down, I decided to shake it off and just focus on enjoying myself. After all it wasn't often I got out to do things alone like this. The waitress was nice enough.

Ordering, I did what other "table for one" diners would do, stare at my phone. The food was indeed what I expected, tasty so as I dug into my single pancake with a side of eggs and turkey bacon, loud animated voices began to distract. It wasn't until the curious statement "I don't want them to..." pulled my attention into focus. 

What I heard was a whole ass conversation about conservatism, how it was the best way to live, how the liberals...blah blah blah...nothing new heard...and how the country needed to go back to traditional values. I finally snuck a look. It was my waitress. The one I said was nice enough, and she was...to me...in front of me. I didn't want to start to conspire that she was speaking just that loudly knowing I was within earshot, I refuse to give into that sort of paranoia, but it was hard not to wonder. 

Finishing up, this was the sort of place where you paid at the register and let me tell you, the biddy at the register gave me the same look one would give a cockroach that clearly deserved to be squashed. I left sad, as I often am in these situations, which I have encountered before many, many times, unfortunately. 

The rest of the day was spent avoiding people other then the Amish market that I stopped by. They were all lovely. 

Look, now it's approximately...like a lot of weeks since I went to PA. I tried to write but have been finding it more or less impossible since my bitterness towards that particular state stings my tongue. I shouldn't, I know, and I appreciate those who did try to swing the state blue but...yeah I can't write about that place anymore...or at least not now. 

This was a weird blog, I know. I was trying to find some normalcy in my writing, maybe post something once a week. No doubt I overestimated my stamina, moreover my sense of discipline, which I have zero. Where has the love of stories and words gone to? What happened to me? Where is my voice? 

Have a good one while I ponder these questions. 

 

I'm Super Duper Important Business Travel Person, Don't You Know?

Pic Cred: Greg Rosenke

The first time I boarded an airplane, I had an international passport and getting onto a jumbo jet. I was also 3-years-old, headed to my new forever life in the USA. Not that I understood any of it was happening at the time. I actually do have very hazy memories of being led up a metal staircase as I sobbed hysterically clinging onto my mother. For the longest time this was some dream only to find out years later as an adult, when relating this to mom she mused that it was likely I was indeed recalling the night we left family behind and the place of my birth behind. 

So when others speak about their first airplane ride, that's mine to share. From then on, and thanks very much to having family strewn about everywhere around the globe, particularly Bangladesh, I've been flying from a young age. We actually rarely ever flew domestic as the philosophy of my immigrant parents was that if it wasn't drivable, we weren't going because money was saved for those insanely expensive tickets back 'home' (weird that while Bdesh was where I was born, and the USA where I grew up, I still call Bangladesh home. Truth is Maryland is home and will always be no matter where I live.). We spent a lot of time in cars.

By the way, a body never really gets used to flying those long hauls, the 21+ hour flight time ones that seemed endless because they were. Sitting in a small confined seat with the only thing to look forward to was maybe a stale roll or a movie that you were too cheap to go see at the theater. As a child it was boring, as an adult? Maddening. I'm not the type of person who does well confined, not unless it's by choice. Add not a great sleeper on top of it. Good times. I don't think anyone enjoys this crap.

Wait, that's not true, likely I'm being a little extreme, allowing my own prejudice to color my opinion about this subject matter. I've heard, even know, of those unicorn individuals that love, love, love long flights but usually they're also the same who can afford 1st class, at least business and wouldn't be caught dead in steerage (like myself). Sister over here is most certainly not them. Hell, even if I could afford, would I? Yup, absolutely. I just don't have the funds.

Well anyhow, while I did hate those long trips back home due to the sheer hours they were also unbelievably stressful thanks to my mother who overpacked every single bloody time, even the handhelds were stupid heavy, and without missing a beat, we would always be asked to take something out of those stuffed to the gill suitcases otherwise pay extra weight. You know we were not about to do that. Right in the middle of the airport you would see us all huddled together (when I say 'us' I mean my mom and dad and whoever else adult were there, not my brother nor myself for we were 10 feet away pretending we weren't apart of that family) taking out all that we could to get the weight down to "you won't have to pay an arm and leg to check that thing in' level. I still see these brown families at the airport and my heart goes out to the kids.  

I do suspect that the reason I dislike the process of traveling is because of all that from childhood to youth to young adulthood. But the flip side, getting to the destinations? Exploring? Traveling overall? Oh heaven! If I had the funds, I would be in a different country every few months. 

The glorious part is that eventually I was at an age where I paid for my own ticket, which translated to trips, NOT Bangladesh. Those travels weren't nearly as stressful, including the two times I traveled back to the homeland due to the fact that I controlled those bags, packed them, weighed manically unwilling to make a spectacle of myself. 

All that being said, what I really wanted to do was make traveling into my career. I don't mean becoming a flight attendant, I didn't envy those folks and what they had to deal with on the reg with passengers. Their job always seemed so thankless to me although they looked damn good and were soooo poised. What I mean is to be able to travel for my job. 

I was the little kid at the airport watching well dressed people rush by seeming very busy, hurried, important. When I learned that they were going away for their jobs, well wasn't that cool? I wanted to do that! 

As if manifesting that ambition, eventually I did. The first ever business trip I took was to Minnesota. That was eye opening because I had no idea what real business travelers did such as all that went into organizing the trip itself, finding flights within budget, hotels, transportation, had no clue what a per diem was or that I had to track expenses. For sure there were occasionally fun moments but you just don't realize exactly how much times is spent in never seeing anything other than the confines of a conference room or at most, a nice restaurant for dinner with colleagues. During the Minnesota trip, I was accompanied by a gaggle of team members who showed me all the ropes, guiding me so I didn't end up somehow charging the firm for something I shouldn't, or me paying for something I didn't have to. 

I learned all this in one fell swoop but did I consider myself a legit business traveler, had I arrived? Nah, what I thought would make me bonified was solo travel. Don't ask me why, I actually have no reasonable thought behind it at all.

Long story short, throughout the moving and shifting of careers, I did end up business traveling quite a bit but here's the reality: I was never really busy when at the airport other than turning on the 'puter to check emails (even then, not really as I could do it through the phone). If anything I used the excuse of checking emails to keep myself occupied so that at least I looked busy and not a lonely loser. Oddly, I never found the need to run either (unless I didn't manage my time right or sprinting between gates due to airplane delays) as I thought that's what bidness folks do. Last, and humble alert, I was never that important. I guess in a way I was important to the company sending me on the trip because they just shelled out some cash to get my ass there but like...important important? Nope. 

Business trips still sorta get me hype (not always, depends on the destination, like if I were going to NJ, not really, no offense), I do look forward to them, but the youthful shine has long since rubbed off. I absolutely detest the prep before hand which hugely includes packing, something I cringe at, without a doubt the biggest reason I don't travel as much as I would like. As I wrote on FB just earlier this morning, why haven't they created a tele-porter that we could use to just, at minimum, get our suitcases from point A to B? Also, my mind balks at trying to figure out what is the best way to get to the airport, when is the right time to leave, what is the traffic situation, etc...gahhhh...low level stressful and likely the second big reason I don't travel by air unless I'm required. 

Currently as I write this I'm 10,000 feet up in the sky headed to the west coast. What a different world we live in that I am able to do so, right? My employer is taking the whole lot of us, all 300+ staff meeting for a few days. They've thought of everything including providing vouchers for ride shares as well as launching an app that is more or less a 1 stop shop for all the info. The organizers are beasts. And all of this is lovely. I'm excited because I haven't been back to CA in a while. I'm stoked to have time with colleagues and physically meeting those I had only connected with virtually. It's cool that we're going to be taking several hours in one day to volunteer to paint a middle school (or is it schools?) and I adore, adore, adore the companies mission statement. I work for an NGO that provides loan for underprivileged, BIPOC communities. We help make dreams happen and I'm 100% onboard with all of it, blessed to be apart of this place and yup, thrilled to be going to spend a few days across yonder but...just...truly...

...I REALLY HATE PACKING.

(Yeah, a whole blog simply to say those 4 words.)

(Also, the outlet at my seat doesn't work.) 

(I'm going to snooze out.)

(Did I mention I hate packing? Yeah? Okay.)