Your Everyday Business Trip

In-Flight Entertainment

I imagine it's happened to you, too.

You calmly catch your 3:30am taxi to the airport, weave your way through security, do some extra preparation for the workshop you're going to lead that afternoon, and doze on the plane. And then before landing the flight attendant's voice on the intercom informs you that all passengers must remain seated until the authorities have boarded the plane and done what they need to do. And then, while everyone else's head popped up and necks began craning for a better view of the exit door being opened for the authorities, you scooted down in your seat so as to be a less visible target for any potential target-practice about to begin. And then some normal looking guy two rows up from you got escorted off the plane.

I thought so.

Hotel Service

Arriving at the hotel at 12:30pm local time, you smile wanly at the concierge, looking forward to a shower, lunch, and a chance to go over the workshop one more time. He smiles back at you, and checks his computer.

"Ah, yes, Ruth," he remarks amiably, "we have your reservation, but we don't have a room available for you."

It takes a moment until it sinks in that a room will be available eventually, though. And with 30 minutes to kill, you head into the restaurant in the hotel lobby, famished.

And then you're told that they don't have any tables.

On the Road

As you commit to waiting for your hotel room, you inform the concierge that you will need a cab. He promises to hail one for you. After finally accessing your hotel room and showering, you rush out to catch your cab.

First, of course, you make it all the way to the elevator before realizing you have left your purse, hotel room key and all your money in the now-locked room.

Then, having recaptured your wits, you stride across the lobby to the cab you see waiting for you outside. You nod happily to the concierge, who gestures to the car with a smile.

And you are right next to the cab, about to get in, when you notice that there's no driver in it. You look around. You wait. You wonder: in California, is it considered better practice to request both a cab and a cab driver?

The taxi service radio inside the car emits barked orders, questions and other static-infused commentary. You almost feel compelled to answer. Finally, the cabbie appears. It seems he had to take a leak.

He glances at a map to locate your destination, and as you head out into the highway, windows open and wind pouring wildly into the backseat, he asks if you have a music preference.

"No," you respond politely. He switches away from U2, which you were enjoying, and loud hard rock comes on. He asks if you mind the music loud.

"No," you respond politely. He turns the dial louder and louder. It makes no sense any more to go over any aspects of the workshop in your mind, which is being infiltrated by the blaring music.

For the remainder of the drive, you are the recipient of the glowers and glares of fellow motorists, including one beefy guy with a tattooed arm and Harley-Davidson-long hair.

Back to the Airport

The next morning, you make your way back to the airport. You've been up since 4:20am West Coast time, but didn't bother getting showered until your wake-up call at 6:45am. You arrive at the airport at 7:25am for your 9:00am flight back to New York via Denver.

To your shock, the airport is thronging with people. Thronging. And it's only a friggin Friday morning.

You make your way to a free computer to print out your boarding passes. Two boarding passes print out--one which informs you that you have no seat assignment to Denver and must get it at the gate (no explanation), and one which informs you that your flight from Denver to NYC is "Delayed" (no explanation).

No worries. Hakuna Matata. You have discovered, to your endless delight and glee, that the airport offers dim sum, and are in seventh heaven. And what do you care how long you spend in the airport. You now have no workshop to prepare, and can simply doze or read about the Middle East in your latest book.

Home Sweet Home

A Bangladeshi driver picks you up from the airport. You discover that your one word of Bengali is actually Bangladeshi Arabic, and you are appropriately bummed. You learn the proper word for thank you, only to forget it by the time you blog this trip the next foggy morning.

Your drive is interesting; the cabbie is talkative. You are soon engrossed and almost to the point of tears as he tells you the tale of a friend of his, a 30 year-old, who has just been dumped practically on the eve of his wedding. It's a Monsoon Wedding kind of tale, but you are totally on the side of this poor dear of a man, who has been frightfully abused by this cruel woman.

You give him a $5 tip and tell him to tell his friend that you're on his side.

On the doorstep, you find a DVD you're been longing for. It's "Nemesis," the last of the Star Trek: Next Generation films. It's your favourite. But suddenly you don't want to watch it until you've seen all the others first. You also don't want to depress yourself with the ending. Instead, you watch the special features, in which you see deleted scenes of the depressing ending you were avoiding in the first place.

After a good weep, you fall asleep at 11:30pm EST.

The next morning your mind is foggy and you're awoken by your absent roommate's alarm clock, followed by two phone calls. You groggily make your way to work, only to find that you just can't concentrate. You turn to your blog, and blearily reveal the details of each moment of the last two days. Knowing that no-one was particularly wanting to know the details in the first place. :) But it seemed a way to procrastinate without leaving the office and ruining your odds of actually completing the PowerPoint that's due by Monday.

:) Oh dear. Oh dear.