When I stepped onto my most recent flight, the door to the cockpit was still open. I couldn’t see the pilots, but I could see their hats, hanging on two pegs just inside the cockpit door.
One of the hats had photos of his three children taped inside it. I’m sure most people would look at that and think, “Aw, how sweet.”
I, on the other hand? Well, I looked at it and thought:
I’m reading (and loving) “No Impact Man” right now. Between this book and my recent viewing of The History of Stuff, I’m becoming horrifyingly aware of my consumption of THINGS – and the resources that go into making them. So it is with a certain degree of guilt that I write this list of THINGS That Make Me Happy When I Travel.
• My iPhone: How did I ever fully explore a place before I could take a walk with my iPod playlist, switch over to find out what dining options were close to me, check the hours of the museums and take a picture of the best-smelling flower garden I’ve ever walked through?
• Alarm Clocks with iPod Docks: Yes, I seem to be Steve Jobs’ pimp tonight. It’s true that I Apple. But on this one, I’m just saying: there are three things that I know that make a hotel room feel like home and one of them is your own music pumping out a speaker. The second thing is…
• A Travel Candle: Nothing worse than a hotel room that smells like disinfectant (unless it’s a room that smells like it NEEDS disinfectant). And the third thing is…
• My Slippers: Without them, I pace my hotel in flipflops or walk on tip-toe like a ballerina, scared I’ll contract some disease from carpet that may or may not have a certain stickiness to it.
• My Fuzzy Socks: For in-flight comfort. There is nothing that makes people more envious than shucking off my shoes and peeling on my plush, striped “Where’s Waldo” socks. Not only do they keep my otherwise cold feet warm, they just make the plane feel more homey. And let’s face it – no one is going to ask me to handle their soda or peanuts after they see me slide my fingers between my toes.
• A Bag of Candy: Can’t help it. A trip doesn’t feel like a trip if I don’t have some variety of sugar to toss back by the handful. (And I can be polite and offer candy to strangers, but I’ve never had one accept. Wonder why?)
I generally avoid traveling on Mondays and Fridays. This morning I was reminded why. (Note: it is Monday.)
Upon arriving at the airport, I went straight to a check-in kiosk and attempted to run my card – with no luck. I tried three other machines (and two other cards) with similar results, so eventually I joined the masses in line for the kiosks that are supervised by United personnel.
The line wasn’t moving, despite the fact that I could clearly see no fewer than four free kiosks blinking “check-in here.” No one in line was wearing a suit, and most of the people had over-sized bags indicating they were heading on vacation. They all had blank looks and no urgency. I wanted to push someone.
pithypants 