Plane Thoughts

Written January 18, 2019.

I write this at 30,000 feet, and now is the perfect time to kill time. I find my blogging tends to take more time than I realize, so here I go as I am trapped in my preferred window seat and NOT having anxiety. (Don't mess with me potential turbulence.)

Even with the government shutdown, I was able to fly through security. I saw a coworker on her way to southern California and turns out I have an online friend on the same flight going to the same convention as me. Only found out through Twitter. INTERNET!

When I was back alone with my thoughts, I wondered how it would have been different if my husband was here too. We travel more lately (since I learned to manage my flying anxiety and started accruing vacation at a faster rate) and last year discovered we can travel independently.

Okay, we knew we could, we just didn't. We like each other. And we like being home. Don't get me started about leaving my dog. I would do a weekend away with my mom, but beyond that, my bed is comfy and already paid in full.

It wasn't until people on the other side of the road got me excited to get going again. So many fantastic podcast friends await me. Husband doesn't need to be dragged along.

But that means I won't have my human travel pillow with me. Wait, I'm fully responsible financially for this trip? Crap. I have to bring all my stuff with me to the bathroom at the airport and no one will save my seat. What kind of bullshit us this?

Then again, I'm traveling with so much less since I'm not doubling up on supplies and provisions. I don't have to scout out places and make the traditional trip to a drugstore where we buy a case of soda and two gallons of water. I don't have to worry about keeping him up with my snoring since we'll be on top of each other in a tiny room. I sleep when I want! And no mom style hovering when it's time to pack. I don't have to pack the dog for a trip to grandma's house.

Yes, benefits to be enjoyed. Still I miss the little jokes to be made when a typical travel foible happens. Or a certain word that in very special context is only funny to us said by a stranger. We have our moments. I'll miss those. I miss him.

I also know he's happy to get the bed to himself, can do the dishes on his timetable, and pizza will be on the menu all weekend.

While I'm a little sad to leave him, these times apart make me grateful we are allowed to be our own people. We just happen to share our stuff. Well, some of it.

Sweet, we're descending. Crap, bumps and seatbelts now required. Damn you lack of husband arm to grip. I'll live. It'll just be one more story to tell him tonight when we talk each other to sleep.