See It Before You Leave It

I'm always glad I went on a trip.  Past tense. Leafing through my trip journals and blogs in the comforting familiarity of my own home is wonderful. Going through the actual process of the trip isn't always wonderful, and I have to take medication at night to pull it off.  See photo at left.

Last fall, when my dear friend Rob was dying and I went to LA to say good-by,  he told me that one of the reasons he could almost accept the end of his life was that he could no longer travel.  What was the point of living, he said, if he were confined to his bedroom and couldn't even take a car ride?   Five months earlier, he'd taken his last trip, to Europe to meet up with his partner.  To do this, he paid full-fare Business Class and took a machine with him that fed him a special liquid diet through a port in his side.

On our recent trip to Chicago, I found myself thinking often of Rob and saying to him, "Look, I'm traveling!  I'm out seeing the world!"  I like to think he would have approved, maybe even applauded, even though it was only Chicago and I didn't have to take a special machine with me in order to eat.  His bravery far outstrips mine.

But for a long time I wouldn't travel because I was too scared.   Now I go,  but  I try to control for every possible variable by planning way ahead,   researching like mad, and sometimes paying more.   It doesn't always work.

Last year, Italian air traffic controllers went on strike and left us stranded in Verona for 10 hours.  On the same trip, our favorite hotel in New York City gave us a terrible room.  On the trip to Chicago, United Airlines sold my seat and reassigned me to one in the last row, middle seat.  There's only so much you can do.

Despite all that, I feel as though I have to step up, to see it before I leave it.   Next trip: Glacier National Park in August.