Road Warrior Princess

Dichotomy

It is the season in which we vote on the Freddie Awards.  If you don't know what the Freddie Awards are, you are no road warrior.  The Freddie Awards are basically a chance for travelers to vote for our favorite travel programs.

I am not sure that this is why the pilot for my first flight of the day actually took the time today to walk through the aisles of the plane (yes, the pilot) to thank all of us row by row.  I am also not sure that this is the reason that the front desk of my hotel called me just to check on me after I arrived.  But I am pretty effing sure that it is NOT the reason that the flight attendant on my second flight of the day acted like a totally condescending, rude, and disrespectful jerk. 

A fuzzy overcoat was the initial victim of her disdain.  "Whose is this?! Who put this here?" she barked as she yanked the coat from the overhead bin.  "And who put this purse here?! Ya'll have been REALLY bad..."

I am usually the first to become irritated with the lack of space in overhead bins as the result of passengers who don't follow proper etiquette, like using both the space above and below for belongings, and putting your jacket in last, only if others around you have placed their bags.  Now this airline employee was shrieking out all those thoughts I had always had kept to myself...so why was I so offended at her outburst? 

I had just been seated and was about to forgive the airline in my mind for not getting an upgrade this flight (thanks to the friendly PR pilot from the last flight).  I think that because my opinion of this company had flown so high (ha, get it?) in the past hour, this flight attendant affected me that much more.  Her griping in the aisles was bad enough to leave a bad taste, when...

"WELL, IT LOOKS LIKE WE'VE GOT THE PLANE LOADED WITH ABOUT 5 MINUTES TO SPARE.  THANK YOU.  A FEW OF YOU WERE BAD, YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE, ROW 13, BUT WE ARE READY."  Yes, she announced that over the intercom.  I wasn't even in row 13 and I was embarrassed!  Well, I was in 12 -but was still wearing my overcoat (not the perpetrator!).

I realized over the course of the next hour that Kathy Griffin (my code name for this flight attendant) was doing what so many of us are guilty of: assuming that her casual, day-to-day persona was appropriate for customers.  I know I do this at times - I become frustrated and start to slip.  I have to remember that my "Californian" (read: sarcastic) sense of humor is not always appreciated!  Not everyone will agree with me and/or understand my references to obscure scientific/technical/literary sources! 

Of course, I had just been reading one of those Denny Hatch articles (which, generally, are quite good) about delighting the customer, so I admit that I was a bit sensitive.  This experience, though, showed me how quickly the simple mistake of becoming too complacent with the stability of your job can cause a rift between a customer and a company.  Though the humble gratitude that the first pilot had shown us was a shining beacon in the dark night that is customer service, this condescending staffer plunged us back into the abyss even deeper than where we started.  I could hear mumblings around me of "THIS is why I don't fly this airline." 

This is a daily battle that we that meet customers must continue to fight.  I do not employ myself, but I must remember that my employer's customers associate me with their feelings about my employer.  This is something that "Kathy Griffin" needs to realize - especially during Freddie Awards season. 

Not all those who wander are lost (~J. R. R. Tolkien)

I've been in the office for over a month.

The only travel I've managed to do was a quick trip to W. Palm Beach for a nonprofit event, and I was so desperate to get on that plane I looked like a heroin addict who finally managed to score a hit.

So, since I've been landlocked, I've been searching for purpose.  It's been difficult!  Working, self-medicating, and home renovation have begun to lose their appeal.  I've realized that I have truly defined myself by my movement across state/country borders.

What would I do if I were permanently grounded?  I truly believe that this is not an option if I hope to be happy; however, I have come to realize that the travel doesn't have to be quite as much to maintain a stable mind.  Being off the road has forced me to realize that I love not only the people I meet and the places I see, but I truly love the process of traveling.  I love flying in a plane.  I love the feeling of hotel sheets and a puffy duvet on a cold night.  If you do much traveling for your job, you have probably decided by now that I must live in a hovel to enjoy being on the road for these reasons.  Who could possibly prefer the loneliness of the business trip to the comfort of one's own home?

It is these surroundings that truly keep me going, because, like a child, I am still excited by them.  Every time I feel the plane take off, I am overwhelmed with the amazement that Man could engineer such a wonder.  Flying through God's heavens reminds me of the beauty, splendor, and danger of this life.  I wax poetic as I look about the amalgamation of postcards here at the office that represent my journeys.  This is a way of life.

Being this wistful is wearing me out.  Thank goodness I get back out there next week.

I'm not unfaithful, but I'll stray...

I've strayed.

Reading has always been an escape for me, and thus writing is a logical extension of that therapy.  Writing allows me to not only escape, but also to create my own reality.

However, as I've traveled more, I've taken on multiple mistresses: fitness, drinking, daydreaming, and television are just a few of my dalliances.  My writing has become a dejected pariah, thrown to the wayside by a fickle, philandering spouse.

All drama aside, I've realized in the last few months that my constant travel has created a new person in me, and not one that is entirely admirable.  I've become cynical, lazy, and haughty.  What I want to be, though, is a gracious, ambitious, but humble person, and I want to do this while being faithful to who I really am.  This is a REALLY big undertaking.  So, I've taken the step to make a simple New Year's resolution.  This goal is simple in theory, but complex in execution.  I want 2009 to be the year that I LOVE.

In loving, I will strive to love God first, and foremost.  I also wish, though, to both proactively love others and myself, and return love when I receive it.  Finally, I want to extend my love to those passions I once held so dear, including that of writing.  I will be more faithful to those people and things that I should cherish most.

Does this mean that I will blog more?  Not necessarily.  I will strive to write more, but it may be through other media.  I will prove to myself that I am not unfaithful though I have been absent.  Love often leads to creation, so as I look down the scope at this coming year, I anticipate what the act of giving more love will produce.

The Man Every Girl Needs to Meet

I was packing for my last work trip, and managed to gently cram three days worth of clothing (read: suits, evening casual wear and running attire) into a small duffle bag.  Many times when I arrive at the airport with a smaller bag than my male travel colleagues, one of them will ask me how I pack so small. 

My answer is simple: nude-colored pumps.  Neutral-colored shoes go with anything, so you only need one pair, even for a week-long trip.  That makes room for other things, like running shoes.

However, as I was reflecting on my packing skills, I hearkened back to a time when I was an inquisitive young woman of, oh, about 24 years.  I had just arrived in Virginia Beach, and it was in this magical town that I met the man who would become...my fashion guru.

His name was Brad.  I never asked him, but I would guess that he had lived a full 65 years or so.  I met this character when I climbed into the back of his taxicab.  He was unassuming enough, but had a strange lisp.  His first question was: "Do you find, being as smart as you are, and as attractive as you are, that you have trouble in your career?"

Needless to say, this confused me, and after stumbling through a response, he got to his point: I needed to seek the advice of a fashion "professional."  He said I looked "sharp" in my casual plane-riding wear, but that a "professional" could design a look more "authoritarian."  That is the word that he used; this is not a typo; he did not say "authoritative."  He indeed suggested that I strive to inspire complete subjection through my choice of dress.  Now THAT is advice that your girlfriends won't give you!

With these tidbits, I was hooked.  But, it was his compelling comment near the end of the ride that has truly inspired me in my fashion choices to this day: "Some people just don't understand the power of clothing."  I was floored.  What had I been missing?  More importantly, how is this haberdashery genius stuck driving a cab?

The true greats don't aspire to greatness in this life.  Like Gandhi before him, and the guy who invented Kung Fu, Brad simply sought to provide his valuable haute couture consultation from his humble position (in this case, the front seat of a taxi) - to anyone who would listen.  So Brad, I thank you - because of you, those neutral-colored pumps have a razor sharp tip and a 4-inch stiletto, so that I will always be prepared in the case of a peasant uprising.

Four Days in...Vegas

I've been a bit out of sorts for the last 24 hours.  This is because I realized late yesterday that I am not living the life I had planned.  Of course, I am traveling a lot, which was what I have aspired to do since childhood, but I am no jet-setter.  However, until yesterday, I was living that life.

You now are wondering, "how can this be? And how can I, too, live the good life, like in that Kanye West song?"  Simple.  Go to Las Vegas.

Las Vegas puts the "V" in "VIP".  It also puts the "V" in "vice" and "venereal disease."  But, I digress.  You wanna roll VIP, hang out with celebrities, and party like it's your job?  Vegas is the place!  I know, since I spent the last four days there, and I am here to provide you with the tips you will need to maximize your VIP experience.

First off, plan to spend an entire day getting there, even if you live in the state of Nevada already.  Hey, if you REALLy wanna be a jet-setter, you gotta be seen at ALL the hotspots.  That's what I did.  I didn't realize this at first, so thanks to the nice folks at Delta for realizing my star potential, and rerouting me through not just one, but BOTH AIRPORTS in New York City.  Good thing I was wearing my designer $60 dress.  Gotta look fly when you're rolling on the New York subway during your 6 hour layover.  YOWZA!

Speaking of dress code, remember that Vegas is one of the few places on earth where you can dress like a skank and still look like a school marm compared to most of the people you will meet.  South Beach is also like this, and so is Berlin during the annual "Love Parade."  Then again, most of the skanks at Love Parade are men.  So, ladies, hit the local Insurrection or Pleasure Palace and pick up that bathing suit you've been eyeing - you know, the one whose top and bottom appear to be interchangeable.  You will still feel overdressed.  (**Disclaimer: If you are over 50, please disregard this paragraph.**)

Men shouldn't feel left out - the girls don't get all the fun!  There's nothing that Las Vegas loves more than a fully decked-out guido, so boys, stock up on the hair gel and gold necklaces and don't forget to wax your chest - the broads are gonna love your look!  And if you want that extra edge, don't forget to master the dance that will have all the honeys flocking your way: the "Guido Fist Pump." FUHGEDDABOUTIT!

Make sure you make reservations on the guest list for any places you ABSOLUTELY must go.  Or, in case these joints don't realize what kind of celebrity they are dealing with, use a trick I've learned over the years: disguise your voice and pretend to be your own assistant. 

While in Las Vegas, I enjoy indulging in many of the typical vices, at least the legal kind.  I restrict my substance abuse to alcohol, unless you count my addiction to Red Bull.  I'm not sure what "Taurine" is, but it sure doesn't SOUND natural.  But hey, the Red Bull Web site made it sound legit, so who am I to judge?

Anyway, the one pleasure that I exclusively reserve for trips like this is gambling, and here's my final piece of advice: STAY AWAY FROM POKER.  Unless you compete regularly on the WSOP tour, you will lose.  Plus, why do you want to sit around a table where no one will see you?  You got all decked out for the occasion, so go ahead, and join me at the craps table.  You will really look like a VIP and you might even meet a celebrity (I gambled with Clottey after the match) or few like I did.  Just don't block my roll with that giant gold medallion you're wearing.

Survival of the...

I spend a lot of time alone at bars.  It's a job hazard.  No, I'm not a "lady of the night"...I just find myself traveling alone quite a bit, and I look like less of a loser (albeit more of a drunk) if I sit at the bar to grab a bite or to self-medicate.

However, I am currently not traveling, and yet found myself at the bar alone yet again last night.  Of course, I was waiting on friends who were running late, but I found myself feeling uncomfortable in my solitude for the first time since that incident at the Buffalo Wild Wings in South Dakota (Waitress: "Waiting on someone?" Me: "Nope, just here to watch the game."  Waitress: "Awwww...are you single?  Poor thing.").  People were looking at me.

I suppose I am the perfect prey for predatorial people (hey...alliteration!) at the bar.  People who see me there, alone, probably are just staring to figure out why I am there, alone.  ("What's that girl doing there alone?  Doesn't she have ANY friends?!?")  I realized this morning that I've inherited a set of survival skills from the 'rents that have equipped me for dealing with those people, and with life on the road.

From my father, I inherited my love of and patience during travel (even when it sucks), and the sense to detect predators in the area even before they approach.  From my mother, I received my sense of humor, and the innate ability to ruin any polite conversation with the sharp knife of sarcasm.  However, I also blame those people for my blonde hair and big lips - two of the reasons I have to continue to hone these survival skills.

All of this dawned on me this morning after last night's festivities, when I realized that I, and probably other traveling women, have to be specially armed for these sorts of things.  Why did I feel so strange about it last night?  I deal with this all the time, although not usually in my neck of the woods, so I think that's the key.  Traveling alone has made me cautious, suspicious, and cynical, but it's also given me a confidence to do things that a lot of people wouldn't do(and let's be honest, probably shouldn't do). 

Geez, I'm getting wistful.  What a wimp!  Time to get back on the road...

The List

After boarding a plane from Los Angeles at 6:45 am yesterday, I promptly fell asleep.  About an hour and a half later, I woke to a terrible realization.  It's 8:15 am, we still haven't left the gate, and I am sitting in the middle seat between two 40-year-old men, and thus without armrests.

This is what 400,000 miles on an airline will get you.  Four hours, three timezones, and 245 silent wishes for booze later, I still wasn't home and go to thinking: what happened to my resolution?

You see, late in 2006, I promised myself that 2007 was going to be the year.  The year that I started doing things the way I wanted to do them, the year that I made every trip a little about pleasure, the year that I started getting to all those places I haven't yet been.  Of course, I've made a little headway on that, but I still haven't made the commitment to get to those last few states (Utah, Montana, Delaware) or the big five international destinations I desperately want to visit.

Travel has always been a large part of who I am, but I keep getting weighted down by what I am "supposed" to do or what other people think I "should" do.  I've got to stop this.  Many who know me wonder why I can't be in the office more than a week without attempting to fling myself off of the 4th floor - it's just who I am, baybee.

So - halfway through this year, I am having a moment of clarity.  I've done my big trip for the year (China, natch) but I am going to actually commit to hitting at least one travel goal per year.   That means - get to one of the places on the list:

1. The 13 damn states I STILL haven't been to (Unfortunately, I've already hit AK, HI, CA, OR, NM, NY, etc., mostly the middle north-western states are left.  Good thing I like corn-fed white boys.)
2. Dubai (I don't care if I have to wear a scarf, I'm going)
3. Japan (Wrap me in a kimono and give me some sake.  Kampai!)
4. Yukon (I like moose.  And elk.)
5. Ireland (Guiness does a body goooood....BRILLIANT!)

My list will keep growing, and unfortunately Vegas has gotten in the way of me executing on much for this quarter, but stay tuned.  You know I'm good for it.

Bye, bye, Shang-hai

It feels so good to drink champagne again! As much as I like beer, and as delicious as the fried scorpion and cobra were, I certainly have missed some of the Western normalcies.

I really loved visiting China, but unlike many trips, I am glad it was a visit. I am ready to get home and nurse my wounds after running (and shuffling, and what seemed like scaling at times) 13.1 miles on the Great Wall of China. It was incredible, painful, and I ran a lot faster than I thought I'd be able to run. Take a look at the photos, and you will see why this is such an accomplishment for an average Jane like me.

I will cherish all of what I've absorbed here. I loved learning about the Chinese tea ceremony, the palaces, and the food. Although I still love the UFC, I truly enjoyed sitting in the hotel with a Tsing-Tao watching Sumo Wrestling (WHY has this sport not taken off in America? It has EVERYTHING that should appeal to American males with short attention spans: giant fat dudes violently clashing for 5 seconds, but only after downing liquor shots ring-side). Of course, I will especially cherish the new friends I have made.

Will I do it again? Maybe not this race, but I will embark on other adventure races. And I might even spring for the full marathon next time (why do the half when you paid for the full - right, Joe?).

Dodgy Massage-ey

Beijing is a city of close calls. On the street, in the market, in the back alleys. As I leave for Shanghai, I reflect on the many near-misses and just-made-its we've had in this brief trip.

Let me give you an example.

I've made many wonderful friends here, many of whom I hope to keep for life. One, Andrew, had perhaps the funniest near-miss of the trip.

Whether it was an alcohol buzz or a momentary lapse of judgment, he parted ways with friends at about 1 am, determined to find relief for his tired legs (after all, we had finished the Great Wall Marathon the day before). Rather than return to the hotel with them, he walked back alone, intent on finding a late night massage joint that he had spotted on the trip out to the bar.

He continued to walk, despite the frequent invitations of pimps and working girls. Finally, an attractive young woman approached. "You want a girlfriend tonight?"

"No," he replied. "I just want a massage. That's it!" "OK! Come with me! I show you place!"

I am not sure what about this girl, or the cab they got in, or the back alley house they finally arrived in front of looked trustworthy, but he went with her and found himself presented with a number of girls. "You take two!" the house madam commanded. He chose only one, but wound up with two anyway.

The story ends with Andrew asking one girl to leave, which provokes a shouting match between the two girls, which summons the bodyguards to the room, which leads to Andrew being served the bill that he can't fully pay, which instigates a louder argument...and finally, terrified, Andrew throws the money he has at them and tears out of the house.

He made it to a taxi, and then the hotel, safely, but barely.

Yet another close call. Andrew will have to bear the burden of our jokes about the "dodgy massage-ey" forever, but it definitely beats being caught in a knife fight with a Chinese hooker.

A Realization

I have entirely lost my mind.

Today, I got my first glimpse at the Great Wall, and boy, it was leg-numbing and mind-blowing.

After meeting up with the group at 5 a.m. Beijing time (that would be 5 IN THE EVENING as far as my body is concerned), we took a 3 hour bus ride out to the wall. It was incredible - beyond any photos or videos I've ever seen. We were there in order to "inspect" the wall before the race.

What I didn't realize was that "inspect" = "do a complete walk-through". I quickly realized that I have gotten myself in over my head!

The Great Wall of China is not one complete wall. It is made up of many sections, constructed by different emperors. In fact, many of the bricks bear distinct characters that tell you which dynasty they came from. Beijing alone has 7 different sections, and the one that we arrived at is particularly treacherous!

To put this in perspective, only about a half of the Wall section is even suitable for actually walking - much less running! (My estimate of that is 1% that is suitable for running). Vertical stairways, narrow passages, and treacherous rockways (not to be confused with actual walkways) make it extremely perilous...but it gets better...Saturday's weather forecast says HEAVY RAIN!!

My legs are already tight and a bit sore. This gonna be one hell of a run.