I like people sometimes.

I like people, but only sometimes.

Lately, I feel as though every time I sit down on a plane, some chatty middle-aged man sits down next to me and completely ignores the fact that I'm reading or, you know, not at all interested in talking. I keep thinking that part of that is my fault, because I tend to respond politely and so then I think well, I'm engaging them in conversation, so how can I complain? Then, recently I read an article about how this is a common phenomenon, that always seems to involve chatty middle-aged men - it's always men - and youngish women, particularly women without the encumbrance of a wedding ring or traveling companion.

It's not the men are even hitting on the women. They just view the book as non-existent, and the woman's presence as expendable. This particular writer was pretty angry about it, saying that the men ignoring the book and talk talk talking anyway is a sign that they disrespect the woman's time. I read that and a lightbulb went off, because that is just so true. And it is so annoying. I don't really like being put in a position to feel I have to be rude just to get someone to leave me alone or understand what he is choosing not to see, which is that I'm reading here! So this is your PSA, gentlemen: no, she does not want to talk to you. Leave her alone.

So the other afternoon, I took my aisle seat and the plane started filling up. I was reading my book when a tall, thirty-ish man gestured to the middle seat and asked if he could sit there.

Sure, of course, it's Southwest, so any open seat is up for grabs (or should be. I have seen assholes deny someone seating in an effort to keep the middle seat open, only for the flight to be full and they end up with an even bigger dude sitting in the middle. Karma is such a bitch.).

I move so the man can take his seat and I could go back to my book. Or at least, I try to go back to my book. Turns out Mr. Middle Seat is also Mr. Chatty. Luckily, the window seat lady was more than happy to talk to him, so crisis averted.

Then, we sat on the tarmac. And sat there. And sat there. Who knows why we sat there so long, but we did. And that's when I realized that Mr. Middle Seat was actually Mr. Friendly and Interesting. The three of us had a lovely conversation. We learned that Mr. Middle Seat is indeed in his early 30s. He is on his way back from a cruise with his brother (who was sitting in front of me) and his fiance's family. We talked a bit about the wedding (August), and how the fiance wants them to write their own vows, so he's going to have to figure that one out. The honeymoon is a week in Yellowstone National Park, which he seemed to think he had to justify, because I bet he has been getting shit about that from other people (why? Yellowstone is awesome), but Ms. Window Seat and I thought that was a great destination.

We had all been talking for about a half an hour (Mr. Middle Seat is former Navy, he has lived in Hawaii and Dubai. Seriously, this guy was happy to share.)  when Mr. Middle Seat mentioned that his fiancé was also on the plane. Turns out she is a nervous flyer. A really nervous flyer. She was crying and shaking before boarding.

Dude! I said. Why didn't you say something before? I would have switched seats so you could sit together. He was so surprised and seemed genuinely touched that I would have been willing to do that. I think he truly didn't want to inconvenience anyone by asking, so he just took his middle seat and was making the best of it. Which of course just made me want to help them more.

Unfortunately, at this point, the flight attendants were finally getting the plane ready for take off, so I didn't want to get up just then lest it cause a delay. Mr. Middle Seat thanked me anyway, and we all went back to chatting.

After another fifteen minutes or so, when I realized that we weren't actually taking off at all (probably ever), I asked where the fiance was. She was in an aisle seat just a few rows back from me. Please. I have so got this. I ran back, asked if she was Lauren. She was so startled but said yes. I said I'm sitting next to your fiance, would you like to switch?

This dear sweet girl, who I could tell had been crying, started to say oh, no, that's okay, when her seat mates, who had clearly been having a similar conversation with her, both said Go! Go!

So I grabbed my bag, Lauren grabbed hers, the flight attendant looked startled, and we switched.

When I sat with my new seat mates, it turns out they really had been having the same conversation. They were a married couple, and had noticed that Lauren was nervous and playing with her ring, so they asked her about it to distract her. They also had offered to switch seats ("We've been married for 14 years, so we can stand to not sit together for an hourlong flight!") and she had politely declined, not wanting to trouble anyone. They also knew all about the cruise, and the wedding plans, "and the honeymoon in Yellowstone!" we said simultaneously.

I chatted just a bit with my new seat mates until we FINALLY did take off, and then things quieted down, and I got out my book, marveling at how, the closer I got to my new home in New England, the nicer people tend to be, every time.

Packing for travel

I have always struggled with packing. I want to bring everything, for every contingency! Then, I inevitably get somewhere, lugging a too-heavy bag with me, and go home with several things I never even wore.

I am trying to overcome this. On a few recent weekend trips, I only brought one pair of shoes - the ones I wore on the plane. It was somewhat liberating not to cram several other pairs of shoes into my bag. Why do I feel it necessary to bring separate pair of pants for each and every day when I know darn well I can get at least a week out of a pair of jeans?!

So, for my upcoming ten day trip to France, I am trying something new with packing. Instead of packing a separate outfit for each day, I am simply packing a few pairs of pants and a few tops, all of which mix and match, and I'm going to go with it.

This is hard. I want to pack ALL THE THINGS. But I will not, because the carrot on the end of that stick is that by not overpacking, I will have room in my bag for all of the wonderful French things I plan to bring back.

Two cardigans, one long sleeved T, two 3/4 length sleeve linen Ts, a true t-shirt, and a fancy print cotton shirt with sleeves. That's it. I swear.

So, I have narrowed it down to two pairs of shoes, neither of which are "look at me, I'm a stupid American!" athletic shoes. One pair is a pair of "fashion" sneakers similar to Keds or Converse, and one is a pair of Dansko Mary Janes. That's it, folks. One pair worn on the plane, one pair packed.

I'm not bringing an umbrella because I hate umbrellas. I am bringing a waterproof windbreaker, because I like those. I was tempted to bring a trench coat and look all fancy and French, but who am I kidding, I'll never look fancy and French. So I'm bringing my fleece jacket because it's what I'm comfortable wearing.

I opted for the one on the left, at my friend's suggestion. It IS springtime in Paris, after all. 

Texas Time

I recently spent a week in Texas, and while I have certainly had more exciting and exotic trips to such far flung places as Australia, Japan, and Iceland, this particular trip reminded me of the importance of taking every opportunity to enjoy travel and connect with others.

Backstage at the dance competition

I had a business trip in Houston coming up, and my employer allowed me to combine that with a trip to Dallas the weekend before. The Dallas leg was the family leg. I stayed with my sister and her family to enjoy the weekend, work remotely for a few days, and then take a short flight to Houston for the professional conference.

While in Dallas, we did not do Dallas-y things. Rather, we did family things. I was able to attend my ten-year-old niece's dance recital and we all went out for celebratory sushi afterwards. We had a lazy Sunday reading, cooking on the barbecue, and playing bocce in the backyard, a particular luxury since I was getting reports of snow at home in New England. In Texas, I was wearing shorts. God bless Texas.

My sister's dog says hi.

After enjoying some good family time and a little Dallas sun, I tried to make the most of Houston. This was tough, because I still had to work remotely part of the time, I tried to fit in some good conference sessions, and I tried to enjoy at least a little bit of Houston while I was there. I found a great little Italian bistro, discovered how hard it can be to find good restaurant service when dining alone (grr) and did manage to visit the local aquarium where I saw, inexplicably, white tigers. I was treated to a beautiful view of the skyline while waiting for my ride back to the hotel.

I realize this may not sound like the most ground-breaking vacation in the history of vacations, but the truth is that I loved the time away from the routine and from my otherwise quiet life. I spent time with friends and family, I ate good food, I met some new colleagues, I learned a few things, and I returned home refreshed.

Celebratory sushi

Strawberries growing in the Texas sun

The Houston skyline

Aquarium!

I have been waiting all week to get to the Houston aquarium! As a former zoo professional, I visit zoos and aquariums with a discerning eye. I don't just look at the animals. I pay attention to signage and trash cans and overall customer service. Is the restroom clean? Are there staff members available to answer questions? Is the signage clear and well written?

But, also, I really love the animals. I got all giddy when I saw the octopus and the red bellied piranha (that look like they're wearing glitter), and I did not expect to see white tigers and was blown away by them. Which is saying a lot, because I used to handle penguins and an Indian Python (among other animals) for a living.

The best part about this place is that they are open in the evenings so I could take full advantage after my conference panels today. 

Here are some photos from my visit: 

That's the aquarium on the right plus their Ferris wheel! 

Octopus selfie!

Glitter fish. (I mean, red bellied piranha)

He is just so cool. 

Totally unexpected.

Dinner at their extensive resteraunt.

I like fun signs.

Life choices

It feels as though lately every time I sit down on a plane, I have an overly chatty middle aged man as a seat mate. They are always pleasant enough, but I like plane travel to indulge my introverted love of getting caught up on reading. I do not like being a captive audience, especially for a chronic talker.

This is why I was relieved in a recent Southwest flight when a woman who looked about my age asked if the seat next to me was still available. I offered to hold her tea while she got situated and with this simple act of kindness became her new best friend.

Oh great, I thought. Another talker, and I can't escape. But as the flight went on and we chatted some more, I realized that she was actually a really interesting person and we had a lot in common. She was from a neighborhood in Brooklyn, my parents are from Brooklyn. She went to City University of New York, my grandfather attended the same. We are actually the same age, and are both doctors, though she's the real kind. 

She asked if I have children; I do not, and that is where our lives diverged. She is completing an internship in Maryland for her surgical residency, and flies home to see her husband and two young sons one weekend a month. It's the only weekend off she gets. 

The more we talked, the more I knew these things for sure: my new friend is jealous of my freedom to move about my life in any way I choose, she doesn't have much support or kindness in her life, (as surgery is an old boys club where she must constantly fight against stereotype, and her family (including her mother and sister, who are also surgeons) is constantly telling her to choose a different specialty, one that allows her to spend more time with her family), and she is very, very tired. 

At one point the conversation petered out  not because we had run out of things to say, but because my seatmate had simply fallen asleep. It was that kind of sleep that wasn't very good, because she's sitting upright on a plane, and it was cold, and she was so tired that she couldn't really sleep and instead just swayed back and forth. 

At the end of the flight, the lights came on. My new friend's fatigue was really evident. She tried hard to smile. She proudly showed me pictures of her adorable children on her phone, and said that she sacrificed precious hours of sleep last night to do some shopping so she had toys to bring them. 

As we said our goodbyes, she walked off the plane in front of me, and could barely walk in a straight line, she was so tired. I have been thinking about this conversation since. Mostly, I have been thinking about choices. I made a choice to chat when I could have begged off. I have also made bigger choices in my life. Not having children was a choice. Not having a spouse with a different view as to how our lives would go is a choice. Not being so career driven as to eclipse all else in life was a choice. I was tired, too, but I walked off that plane standing tall, confident in my choices in life, and with a reinforced love of travel because it is in being in this situation of forced proximity that lends itself to such introspection.

Travel gear (NOT an April Fools' Day post)

A good friend suggested packing cubes, which are small bags to help you sort your things when packing. The goal is to let you still roll your clothes but in such a way that maximizes space and lets you access your clothes more easily throughout your trip. I have been loving rolling my clothes these last few trips because it saves so much space vs folding them, but I've been rolling them all in one giant log, which means that when I get to where I'm going, I have to unroll the whole darn thing to get anything out.

I was able to score a set off off-brand cubes from Amazon for twenty bucks. Today, I tried them for the first time. I was skeptical. I felt like I was creating more work for myself with all of this rolling and sorting. 

And then, I put the cubes in my suitcase and something glorious happened. Not only did everything fit, but I didn't come close to using all of the space in my suitcase. I got everything I need for my eight day trip into one 21" carry on bag with room to spare! 

It's official: I love packing cubes.