As someone who’s had the good fortune to travel extensively under the guise of “work” it seems really strange to contemplate the fact that in our minds we haven’t actually been anywhere for almost a year.
As you read this, we’ll be in Sydney, which qualifies as being somewhere no doubt, but when I was there last week for a day's business, it didn’t, for reasons which don’t seem entirely obvious although I think I’m starting to get a feel for it.
Not going somewhere involves leaving home about one and a half hours before the flight is due to depart, having spent five or ten minutes packing the requisites for the day, driving the hour and a bit it takes to get to the airport, and casually arriving at the departure gate to join the last of the boarding passengers.
There’s no luggage to check in or out when one isn’t going anywhere, just a train to catch or a hire car to pick up, and appointments to be kept, and a process to be repeated in reverse at the end of a very long day.
Strangely, when we’re going somewhere, there are no appointments, so it doesn’t matter if we’re a bit late. Why then are “we” packed at least twenty four hours before departure, with things laid out on the dining table so we won’t forget them?
Why have we double checked the booking, and why are we going to leave at least two hours before the flight just in case. In case of what? The days are also long, but they never seem to be as tiring.
Last week, when I was in Sydney for the day on business there was no excitement, it was simply time travel.
This week with no business agenda, well there is a bit of excitement at the very least from one corner of the room, because it’s travelling time, and there’s the difference!
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