I have a confession to make. I enjoy travelling for work much more than family travel. Not the actual being on vacation part, but most definitely the process of getting to my destination.
I do a fair amount of traveling for work – both domestically and internationally. I don’t like being gone so much, especially with three kids at home, but it comes with the job. Recently, as I sipped a latte while strolling through an airport for a business trip, I thought about the differences between travelling for work and travelling with the family, which I also do fairly often.
Now, I realize how this might sound, and please feel free to leave your thoughts, but work travel is soooo much better!! Is that awful to say?
It’s like the difference between a leisurely spring morning walk in a park….
and a mad scramble to get out of town before a meteor strike.
Is it like this for everyone?
Work Travel Is Easy Breezy
My typical business trip is usually a fairly smooth, uneventful affair.
65 Minutes Until Wheels Up…
I wake up a little too early for my taste. But the house is dark and everyone is asleep so I relish a few minutes of uninterrupted time getting myself ready.
Check my phone (because my Apple Watch is on the charger) for the time and my flight status. At this point I think about hitting up Uber, but don’t want it to get here too early. Besides, I haven’t finished my coffee yet.
No rush.
55 Minutes Until Wheels Up…
Call for my Uber. Luckily I live in a fairly bustling area so the closest car is about 4 minutes away. Perfect. I put my luggage on the front steps and then look around to make sure I haven’t forgotten anything. Ah yes, the Apple Watch.
I even rinse out my coffee cup, something I don’t even do when I’m home all day long.
Uber comes and with a cheery “Good Morning” to the driver, I hop into the car. I’ve now got about 51 minutes to get into my seat on the airplane. The traffic looks light and I’m only about 20 minutes from the airport. No problem. I think about my family, feel a little guilty that I’ve once again left my husband home alone with three kids. But I get over it as I contemplate my second cup of coffee waiting for me at the airport Coffee Bean.
30 Minutes Until Wheels Up…
Yep, 20 minutes to the airport… good ol’ Waze. Right again. I giggle a little to myself as I casually step out of the car, grab my luggage and head toward the security gate. With my TSA pre-check boarding pass loaded onto my phone, I breezily walk through security and head toward the monitor to see which gate is mine. I note the coffee shops as I head to my gate.
22 Minutes Until Wheels Up…
I decide the extra 10 minutes needed to grab a latte is well worth it. Who can drink airplane coffee anyway??!?
12 Minutes Until Wheels Up…
Latte in hand, I stroll up to my gate, just in time to hear my group being called. Off I go through the jetway to take my seat. Luggage fits compactly into the overhead and latte and I sit down and settle in.
I’m not much of a chatter-bug. Although, if the person sitting next to me is friendly, I’m happy to strike up a conversation. Once the pleasantries are done, I’ll break out my laptop to get a few things done. Maybe I’ll indulge myself with a mindless game on my Kindle, maybe a good book. Before I know it, the trip is over and the rest of my day begins.
Ahhh… if only this were so when I travel with my family for vacation.
Family Travel… or Fleeing in a Disaster Movie?
3 Hours Until Wheels Up…
My husband is an (over)anxious traveler and generally wakes up first. Knowing that he is likely overthinking every aspect of our vacation anyway, I hit snooze for another 5 minutes.
My husband starts yelling for everyone to get up or we will miss our flight.
He focuses on packing the right mix of electronics, and not so much on whether or not the kids have the right footwear. “Don’t forget my Apple Watch” I yell, as I bolt out of bed and head for the shower. More likely, I bolt out of bed and head for the dry shampoo.
For the most part the bags are packed the night before. However, in a state of last minute panic, I throw a few extra goodies in for good measure. Extra books for the kids. A Barbie that might entertain for a few minutes on the plane. Where on earth did I put those water shoes!?!
While taking inventory of the essentials, I help my 4 year old get dressed, yell at my son to collect pillows for the plane, and tell my teenage daughter to change her outfit. Crop tops are not useful in December in Michigan.
My husband continues yelling that we have to get moving or we are going to be late.
Finally packed to my satisfaction, I call downstairs to have him carry the bags down. I am met with a frustrated “the bags are too heavy” grunt. I throw him my best “this is not my first vacation, I know how to pack,” glare. Then I ignore him and head downstairs to put together plane snacks.
I pack snack, clean the cat’s litter box, wash the dishes in the sink and run the dishwasher. I do not want to come home to a moldy mess after being gone for 10 days.
My husband yells that we need to call Uber or we are going to be late.
2 Hours Until Wheels Up…
Call for an Uber. We forget that 5 people, one car seat, and several pieces of luggage requires a much larger car than the ubiquitous Prius. 17 minutes wait for an Uber XL, with an estimated travel time to the airport around 37 minutes will put us at the check-in line approximately 1 hour and 6 minutes until wheels up.
It is at this point that my husband starts to break out into sweats. What if there is an accident on the freeway? If we aren’t there 60 minutes early they won’t let us check our bags. What if the security line at the airport is too long? All valid concerns but things that I know I can’t control so I try not to panic.
Now, this fundamentally opposite reaction to my husband’s has always been a source of conflict between us. If I’m not in a state of total panic at this dreadful scenario, I must not be taking the issue seriously. Luckily the ride to the airport goes fairly smoothly, and we actually make it with time to spare.
1 Hour 15 Minutes Until Wheels Up…
We put the car seat into its travel bag then stack it, 3 pillows, blankets and the electronics carry-on, on top of the large bag that we are checking. Then we have the audacity to ask the kids to each pull their own bag.
This is usually met with protests and complaints about how tired they are. That is then usually followed by one of us yelling that they really need to learn to contribute to the family more. Clearly, with 30 or so other passengers nearby,this is not the time for that lecture. But as travel-stressed parents, we can’t help ourselves.
We get to the front of the baggage check line with a few seconds to spare. Lo and behold the one bag we wanted to check is over its weight limit. Now it’s my turn to break out into a sweat. I can feel the hot stare from my husband who had warned me just hours ago that the bags were too heavy.
With no time to spare he grabs handfuls of what he now thinks is crap, and shoves it into any carry-on bag that has room to spare. Since I shoved shoes and snacks into most of them, we are limited on space there too but he manages and we are off to the security line with 57 minutes to go!
57 Minutest Until Wheels Up…
No problem, I think to myself, I have TSA pre-check!
Then I remember, none of the rest of my family has it. It’s to back to the back of the line for us. Not only do we have to wait forever, but we also have to take of our shoes, disassemble the electronics carry-on back that my husband took such care to pack, and pull out lotions and shampoo and every other liquid conceivable.
Of course our teenage daughter, who is oblivious to anything and everything, has packed a fill size body spray and lotion. Both get flagged so we have to stand to the side, wait for them to inspect and ultimately throw away the offending items. Now teenager is even sulkier than usual and husband is about to have a coronary right there and then.
25 Minutes Until Wheels Up…
We race to our gate as they are calling our row. I look longingly at the coffee shops knowing that there is no way my husband thinks we have time to grab a latte. Going to have to drink the airplane coffee. Ugh!!!
At this point I start to relax but then realize that our seats are not remotely together. My husband, who has already narrowly avoided a major medical emergency, starts to imagine all sorts of scenarios involving our unaccompanied children.
I calmly (condescendingly? yeah, maybe) remind him that no one is going to allow our 4-year-old to sit alone, and that he needs to calm down. Once we get on the plane the negotiating begins. We manage to get 2 of us together in one row and 3 together in another. Bags are stowed, electronics are doled out and the snack bag is conveniently stashed near my feet. It’s not a state of total relaxation, but thankfully our kids are fairly good fliers and the worst part is behind us.
Until it’s time to head back home.