The Glamorous Life...

So I just returned from San Diego where I have been working recently. This is the last in what has been about five months of pretty consistent travel for me. My job has required more business trips than usual this year so far. When I first began traveling for business about 13 years ago the trips were few and far between and I enjoyed them. It was kind of fun to get away and work some where else for a few days. Everyone thinks it's so glamorous to travel. The more I do it the less fabulous it gets. Don't get me wrong, it's a privilege and I enjoy my work and there are some great people I get to work with all over the country. But it's probably not what you might think. When I am out of town and I call my husband to check in at home he will ask me every time if I am having fun. It is at this point that I am usually sitting on my bed in the hotel room eating a Wendy's hamburger and working my email while watching a rerun of Law & Order. "Yes" I say, "I am having fun". I recently had the opportunity to work back east for 4 days. I had a great experience but I was ready to get home. I boarded the plane and sat down in my window seat and buckled in. Soon my seat mate joined me. Now I am not a tiny person, I take up my seat. But my seat mate took up more than their seat, if you know what I mean. Well, no worries. My plan was to read my Nook and maybe sleep on the 5 hour plane ride home. So off we go. Once we get up high enough I turn on my reader and promptly the gal in front of me pulls up her hoodie hood, plugs in her ear buds and reclines her seat all the way back. My Nook hits my chin. Really?? I look up at my seat mate who is really too close for comfort but it is what it is. At this point my right arm rest has disappeared, I can't put a tray table down and I can't move my legs. I read, I try to sleep. No beverage for me thank you. Then about 3 and a half hours in I panic. I can't move, I can't get out, I can't straighten my legs. I start to hyperventilate a little. So I start to breathe into my hands...in and out...in and out. I talk to myself in my head..."You are fine! You will be fine! Stop this silliness! Your seat mate can't move either! Just calm down for heavens sake!" It helps. But I am too hot and I am too far back in the plane, 23A, 23A, too far back. I can't read, I can't rest. I just sit there waiting to get off for 90 minutes. We land and I wait patiently, I am sweating and clammy. No one knows I am losing my mind. I am finally off and I shoot for the rest room. I sit in the stall taking big breaths. My life is soooo glamorous!! Before I go home I go to Starbucks in the airport and order a Chai Frappachino, Venti size. I sit on the bench by the security check point and take a few sips before I hit the baggage claim. I think that next week when I come back here to go to San Diego I will be able to wear capri's and sandals. One more trip and then I will have a break in traveling for work. Maybe I'll go to Wendy's on the way home....later.