A lot of people hate to travel. It's seldom you find someone who enjoys the stress involved in getting around the country for business. Even people traveling on vacation stress over the portion of the trip that involves getting there and getting back. I guess I'm wierd, but I love traveling. Yeah, it's a pain in the ass getting through security, but as long as you get to the airport in plenty of time, it's usually not a huge deal. Then the fun begins, if you allow it to. It's easy for a "type A" personality like me.
I like to get to the airport nice and early. There are no better places in the world to 'people watch.' When I'm at my home airport, either Boston's Logan International, or Providence's T.F. Green, I don't really interact with anyone. I put my earphones on, pop a klonopin, and sit my ass down at the gate and check out the crowd. Human nature forces my eyes to look at hot girls or people who look interesting. The very same human nature forces me to check out shady looking people at my gate and size them up. I'd be lying if I said I didn't do this. Political correctness can kiss my American ass.
When I travel for business, I almost always have at least one stopover if I'm flying anywhere over a couple hours away. I also usually fly alone. If I can find someone cool to talk to while I'm waiting for my next flight, I do it. Why the hell not? What do you have to lose? I board my departing plane and hope like hell an attractive female winds up sitting next to me. It doesn't necessarily mean I'll hit on her or even do anything more than smile at her. Maybe I do and maybe I don't. I'm usually pretty good at judging people. If I say hello and it seems like she would like to be left alone, I pick up on it and leave her alone. I know personally at times I like to be left alone myself. If it's not an attractive female, I hope that an interesting individual sits next to me, male or female. I just don't want to be stuck next to a completely annoying person who won't shut up even though you do everything BUT tell them to shut up. I also prefer not to sit next to someone who's fat and/or smells like my old high school football locker. Sorry, just human nature. There's nothing worse than looking up the aisle and seeing a sweaty, fat dude who's breathing like James Gandolfini and looks like he's going to collapse worse than LeBron James does in 4th quarters of important games. He keeps walking down the aisle, getting closer and closer, looking at the aisle numbers, and you cringe and pray that he walks past. As long as he passes by or sits several rows ahead of you, the first leg of the journey will be at least tolerable.
When I get to my first stopover, I make an effort to have some fun. I enjoy meeting people. It makes me happy to meet people who enjoy conversation. It's cool to converse with people from different parts of the country or who have much different professions or family situations or accents as mine. There is no place better suited to meet people from all over than an airport, for obvious reasons. Another reason it's easy to have fun at airports is because it's easy to start a conversation. "Where ya headed?" "Going away or coming home?" "What do you do for work?" There are literally countless ways to begin a conversation at an airport. I'm a pretty confident, like I said, type A personality, so I'm generally not shy, but there's something about an airport that makes it even easier to talk to people. It makes me even more comfortable and confident. Throw a drink or three into the mix at a concourse bar, and I could become best friends with whomever I'm speaking to in under an hour.
My accent is generally brought up within minutes of first contact, if the person is from outside of the northeast. For the amount of times in my life that I've been asked about my accent, you'd think I'd be annoyed by it by now. This might be true except for the fact that my enjoyment of attention trumps the fact that I've been asked to demonstrate how those of us with a heavy Boston accent say words that end with an "r" millions of times. I proudly carry my accent around the country and I'm happy to use it to my advantage, especially as a conversation starter with females from the south, or midwest or the west coast, or wherever. People find me interesting, and I generally find other people interesting. I love learning about other areas of the country and the cultures behind each region. I like to talk sports with people who like different teams than I do. I love to learn about different professions and I dig telling people what I do too. I love to brag about my kids and show pictures of them. Sometimes I'll lie completely about who I am and what I do, just to see the difference in people's reactions. I don't do that often, but it's fun to mix it up every now and then. I suppose it depends on who I'm talking to.
When I talk to a girl, who's clearly on meth, with her constant scratching, gaunt face, and skin that's practically peeling off, it's not so much fun. It was the end of a long travel day, and I had been drinking, and thus I was feeling especially friendly. So too, was the methhead. She approached me and we struck up a conversation. We had fun times throughout the plane ride (she sat with me since it was a mostly empty flight) and continued drinking on the plane. We parted ways at our stopover in Charlotte, NC, and somehow she wound up with my phone number. She literally texted my phone a week later, spouting some story about how she was stranded at a hotel and had no money and could I put it on my credit card? Let that sink in for a minute. A meth addict, (allegedly) who I met once, had the nuts to call me up and ask to use my credit card. My response: "I can't, I spent the last of my money on some crystal, sorry." I never heard from her again.
The road can be a lonely place. I miss my friends and family if I'm away on business for a long period of time. It's easy to get homesick, but if you make the most of your opportunities to make new acquainances and have interesting conversations, it can dramatically reduce homesickness.
I've clearly learned, at least in one such instance so far, that sometimes you gotta be careful, too. If someone is walking around like they have contraband squeezed up their asshole, you might want to move on to the next person to converse with.
And there's my travel tip.
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