Travel Traditions

Just this afternoon, I booked yet another flight from DCA to MKE. Despite the drain on my bank account, it is very easy to admit that my heart flutters a little when I get that confirmation e-mail telling me that I get to pack up my suitcase and zip across the country. I hesitate to call them vacations, because to me it is just going home. They're often no more than long weekends, but I cherish them and I spend the whole flight back to DC trying to cement the memories in my mind, just enough to carry me through to the next trip.

Since I moved out to the East Coast in August 2010, I have flown a lot more frequently than ever before in my life. Between holidays, graduations, weddings, and now BYM Babies, I end up making a trip back to Milwaukee quite often.  And I certainly don’t mind it at all.

For me, vacation starts as soon as the plane’s wheels leave the ground. It’s such a sigh of relief at that point because from then on there are, relatively, few things that can derail me from getting to Wisconsin ontime. By this point I could have already missed the bus, been delayed on the Metro, gotten held up in the long security line, and had a flight delay (among other things). But (thankfully) more often than not the stars align and I’m able to go from my apartment building to my parent’s front door in under four hours.

I have found that I like early flights. Like, first thing in the morning flights. Before the airport is packed and security is a mess. The flight crews are fresher, and there's far less of a chance of a flight delay. I don't mind getting up at 4:30 in the morning if it means I can be drinking coffee on my parents back porch by 9 a.m. 

When I get to the airport I try to breeze through security and get to the gate in time to grab airport breakfast. It's normally some generic variety of bagel sandwich, maybe a banana, but always orange juice. I'm sure it's all in my head, but I drink orange juice when I travel to get some more my vitamin C; which is supposed to stop you from getting sick (which people tend to do after traveling), but at this point that whole sentence sounds like a series of old wives tales. Regardless, I always get orange juice at the airport. It's just what I do.

Generally, the airports themselves are not very exciting.  If you've ever been in the Reagan National Airport Terminal A, you'll know that it's about as nice as the inside of an old shoe box. I try to get to the airport as late as possible because the airport is so pathetic. But every once in a while I'll have a connecting flight, like I did last week in Detroit. They have a massive and, dare I say, beautiful airport with an underground tunnel connecting the two main terminals. The lighting changes as you walk through the tunnel and they play music similar to what I imagine the inside of a German discotheque is like.

I've really gotten the hang of traveling, and one day I hope to be in able to afford actual vacations in addition to my trips back to Milwaukee. I am looking forward to my trips this summer; even after two years, it is really hard living so far away from the people I love.  And while I love being back in Wisconsin, nothing beats getting back to my Virginia apartment on Sunday night and finding this fuzzy face, very happy to see me.

Happy travels.