My first week as a full time travel writer, and I’m already on the road. My last day of teaching was Thursday, and by Friday, I was driving upstate to meet with fellow family travel experts for a weekend with Kimpton hotels, and today I’m on a plane to Salt Lake City, en route to Park City to review Sony video and camera equipment on the ski slopes.
There was a time, and it couldn’t have been very long ago, when the thought of flying anywhere sans kids made me giddy. The promise that I might actually be bored on a plane? Make entertaining faces at someone else’s baby? Have to budget only for my own meals and carry my own possessions? What luxury.
And I do appreciate it for what it is…simplistic travel. Calm, for the most part. Quiet, even amid the bustle of a hub airport. But I’d much rather fly (anywhere) with my whole crew. I’d rather be carrying more than my fair share, searching out bathrooms and multiple charging stations, and saying no to every snack in the overpriced gift shop. I know this is a fact before I’m gone even five minutes, let alone five days. And I’m so grateful that most of the time, that’s exactly what I’m doing.
When I arrive at my destination today, and look out over the view of the mountains and snow and general ski life atmosphere I love so much, I’ll know it’s only half as fulfilling to me without a child’s perspective to share it with. Those of us who are parents are spoiled with those looks of delight, that wide-open wonder that disappears all too soon. Traveling solo reminds me to cherish it. It also reminds me why I do what I do…write about family travel.
In the meantime, I’m thankful for a job I love to ease the bummer of leaving the family behind yet again. And for the people at home taking care of everyone and everything.