Now, in 2013, I am completely amazed when I talk to people who rarely fly, and I am flabbergasted when I meet adults who have never done it once. But I find them fairly often. In this modern time, there are still earthbound people who don't take to the skies. Am I looking at this the wrong way? Am I the unusual one? I have spanned most of the economic scale, from barely scraping by (or more accurately, losing ground every month) to being in a position of ease. All along the way, up and down (and we have rolled both directions on the ladder over the years), I have always lived a fairly mobile life. I have mentioned often that we are nomads, moving every few years. But more than that, we MOVED. We traveled. We flew, we drove, we got out and explored. I can't imagine removing one of my getaway methods, for any reason. I'm not afraid of flying, and I know that it is sometimes economically advantageous to fly versus drive (when you calculate gas, time, hotels, food, etc).
There are great advantages to living a life in motion. It makes for an adaptable personality and a flexible mind. I am glad my own kids were raised with this kind of lifestyle. Any one of us can be dropped into a strange town anywhere in the country, and we can find our way around, or out of that town. I was thinking this today, as I first took an unfamiliar route to DIA (and barely made my flight because of unexpected detours), and then another unfamiliar route trying to find my way out of Atlanta. I was just putting my training to good use.
I did not plan well on the travel arrangements for this trip. I knew I was driving to my father's surprise party and flying from there. But somehow, by the time I got to the step of booking my return flight, all good sense evaporated. I chose a mid-afternoon return, arriving here at around seven thirty. I didn't seem to remember that I was flying into a major hub with a giant park and ride to traverse, a four to five hour drive from my house. I planned as if I was landing at the regional airport that is a ten to fifteen minute drive away from my front door. Thankfully, wiser heads intervened, and they convinced me to find a room for the night, partway through the drive. So now I find myself in a lovely hotel room, relaxed after a trip to the hot tub (I packed with optimism), and dreaming of a full breakfast that I don't have to cook. My alternate reality was going to be driving along dark interstates until three tomorrow morning, drinking truck stop coffee, and hoping to find a clean rest stop bathroom. This is the better way to travel.
Having spent the majority of the day in motion, I will have to see what photos were left over from the weekend, that didn't make it in before now. On Jeopardy, this would be referred to as "potpourri."
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