With Two Weeks To Go...

“Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness.”
-- Mark Twain

When people find out you're traveling, they want to know all about it.  As I've been planning my trip, when I tell someone that I'm going alone, they have varying reactions.  The most common reaction I've gotten is some combination of staring and worrying for my safety.

"Are you crazy?!"

Well, short answer? Yes. But not the kind of crazy that you're thinking.

Every time I've had to fly, I've gone alone.  I've usually had someone waiting for me at the terminal -- I flew to Wisconsion and Seattle to visit an ex a few times, I had friends meeting me in San Diego and Riverside, while I didn't have anyone at the airport for me in Vegas last June I met up with people later, and when I went to Washington DC in high school, I had a group meeting me at the airport.  And yes, there actually is safety in numbers -- it's not a cliche if it's true.

However, the nice thing about this whole info-tech age we're living in?  I'll be connected.  I'm bringing my Kindle-turned-Hitchkhiker's Guide that accesses email and wikipedia and social media, and Starbucks are all international and offer free wifi.  My new phone is a 3G smartphone, so I'll be able to be contacted (even though I know the roaming fees would kill me).  I picked out places to stay in that are highly recommended, and most have security on-site (the little B&B I'm staying at in Bath has no security, but the owners live on-site).  My family has traveled extensively and despite what they think, I actually do listen to them from time to time and have picked up tips here and there on what to do, how to behave, where to stay and when to listen to that little voice in your head when it says not to go down that dark side street.

I'm going to London, not to Giza.  Sure, there's a chance that something could happen; there's a chance something could happen to me while I'm here in my hometown, or when I'm in New Orleans for a weekend.

I'm not stupid.  Not completely, at any rate.

View of Balboa Park from the Skyfari in the San Diego Zoo, June 2009

Another reaction I get a lot is "Oh, you won't have as much fun if you go alone."

Allow me to respond with a resounding bullshit.

Would I like to go with a travel buddy?  You bet.  I'd love to be able to wander through the British Museum with my parents and grandmother and aunts and uncles; have a pint at a pub with my brother and cousins; go see Much Ado with my geeky, theater-going friends (you know who you are!); share a breathtaking, panoramic sunset view on the London Eye with a partner.  But the timing, the cost, the lack of travel partner able to afford or get the time to go...  It doesn't work out like that.

I know there will be moments when I see something and say, "Oh, I wish [insert name here] could see this!"  I think that's part of traveling, of going away.  Absence and the heart and all that.

The thing about going somewhere with someone else is both a pro and a con.  It's a pro because no two people are exactly alike, they don't have the same likes and dislikes, you do things you wouldn't think to do.  One of my favorite day excursions I've ever taken was when I went to the aforementioned wedding in June, and it came up completely at random; I'm on my way to the airport, a family friend said to me, "Oh, you should try to get out of the city and go to Hoover Dam if you have the time."  The idea hadn't even crossed my mind, honestly.  I ended up renting a car and driving down to the Dam, then around Lake Mead for the day.

Yes, I didn't do the whole Vegas strip thing -- In fact, the only time I went down the main drag was when three of my fellow bridesmaids and one of the groomsmen went to the Charthouse for dinner the day after the wedding.  Quite a few people have scoffed at hearing that.

I like to think that I found more of myself out in the sand and heat and desert scrub than I would have found losing my money in some casino.  And now I have a reason to go back; to do the casino crawl.

In the funniest twists of fate, I'm actually going to be meeting up with an old friend while I'm over there -- she's an army wife, currently living in Germany, and she booked her Much Ado tickets for the same weekend I did! I think we'll probably do something ultra-geeky together, like hit up the Doctor Who Experience or something.

Lake Mead, taken on the Nevada/Arizona state line on top of Hoover Dam, June 2010

One across-the-board reaction I've gotten from everyone, however, is, well, jealousy.  Some of it's not real jealousy; maybe more envy, want, desire.  But some are jealous, and seem actually, honestly offended  that I'm going.


I know I'm not explaining it very well.  Let me try again.


There's a difference between saying "Damn!" because you're impressed and "Damn!" because you're mad, or in pain.  It's the inflection, the tone, the context of the conversation.  You see this often with swear words -- take something as simple as "shut up".  If you're telling a friend about a crazy event, and they're sitting there going, "Oh my God, shut up", you know to keep going because they just don't believe what you're saying.  If you're giving your opinion on a topic and someone says, "Oh, just shut up", you get mad because they're insulting you, they don't want to hear what you have to say.

So when you, person I do not know -- or at least not that well -- look at me and say in a nasty, nasily voice, "Well, must be nice!" when I say that I'm going on my trip?  Why, yes.  Yes it is.  I'll bring you back pictures.  Yes, this is a hell of a luxury.  I'm well aware of this.  Bringing up children and bills does not make me feel guilty, nor does it make your life mean more than mine.  It makes you look petty and, well, jealous.

So, you know, shut up.  You're supposed to do all this stuff when you're young, anyway.

Entrance to the San Diego Zoo, June 2009

I've also been told that I should See America First, with that backwards undercurrent of patriotic fervor that insinuates that I don't love my country because I'd like to go Elsewhere.  I have seen America -- I've stood on the shores of the Atlantic, the Pacific, and the Gulf of Mexico, and I've crossed over into Canada for about 30 minutes.  Granted, I haven't seen all of the middle part, but I'm working on it.

I'm prefering to think of myself as an abassador!  Not to brag too much on myself, but I'm fairly intelligent, well-read, well-adjusted for the most part. Polite, friendly, outgoing, go-with-the-flow...  We as Americans NEED that image.  Going overseas and bitching about getting a full English breakfast in a restaurant in London a) makes you look like a dumbass and b) makes us all look dumb. It's like going to your friend's house and bitching because they don't have your sheets on their beds. Why the hell did you bother leaving home in the first place?


Honestly, in all, I'm rather glad I'm going to be traveling by myself. I get downright cranky when I'm trying to make trains and airplanes, and I don't like people seeing me when I'm like that -- at least, not people I know. I'm going to be doing what I want, when I want to. That sounds like a great vacation, does it not?

I just wish justifying and explaining it wasn't such a chore!