I’ll Never Quite Get Used to It

Dearest Rachel –

I have this goal regarding travel that, one day, I’d get to the point where it’s a perfectly normal thing to show up at the airport, get on a plane, and be on my way to wherever it is I’m wanting to go without another thought.  It’ll be almost a routine thing; nothing to get overly concerned about in terms of preparation or anticipation.  After all, there’s no point in getting too excited about something that may not happen (although in fairness, once you’re as far as the airport, you’re as good as on your way).

Today isn’t that day yet.

To be sure, it may be due to the timing of the flight itself.  I’m not used to taking what essentially amounts to a red-eye flight (granted, takeoff wasn’t until a little after seven, which sounds reasonable…until you consider the requirement to be at the airport several hours ahead of that moment, so as to get through check-in and security and all that beforehand).  This means getting a ride from home a little after four – which in turn means going to bed by seven in order to be sufficiently well-rested by the time my ride gets there.

I should mention at this point that Daniel isn’t indifferent to my travels, either; despite having switched all his lights off between my waking up and my ride arriving – which would suggest that he’s finally getting to bed in that span of time – he’s up and padding over to the door as I prepare to exit, in order to see me off. Maybe he just doesn’t want to miss me, in case something happens between now and when I’m supposed to be back, but in any event, he’s not treating it like “just any other day,” either.

It may well also be because of the need to make connections with a group this time around – including the one fellow bringing a bunch of construction tools and supplies that he needed to spread out among other people’s suitcases in order to pass muster.  On my own, I could get myself checked in easily, but I’d be of no help to him if I did so before finding him and the rest of the group, so I have to find him, and that adds a level of difficulty to the moment.

So, yeah, it’s still not something I can be as cavalier about as I’d really like to be someday. Still, once we’re aboard the plane, everything goes as straightforwardly as might be expected.

Another thing I’m not sure anyone ever gets used to are the connecting flights.  Sure, it wasn’t like that one time we were running pell-mell through Charles de Gaulle – we even had an hour to grab some lunch (and as it was our last chance to get any American food for the next week, I actually decided to break my usual habit and eat.  Unfortunately, it wasn’t as if the airport had a Whataburger location in Houston; I had to settle for Steak’n’Shake, which isn’t all that common at home anymore, either, now that I mention it), and the gate was only a ten minute walk (at most) from where we’d deplaned.  But it still felt like we were doing the whole “gobble, gulp and go” routine, and it was a little unsettling, particularly as far as my stomach was concerned.  Or maybe it’s just due to not being used to eating at this hour (or breakfast at three a.m., for that matter).

Still, as travel travails go, this trip wasn’t all that terrible…

…and so now we’re safely in Honduras, getting ready to rest up and prepare for the days to come, when we really get to work. It’s definitely a different sort of trip to deal with, and if you could keep an eye on me, honey, and wish me luck, I’d really appreciate it. I think you can tell that I’m going to need it.