Traveling Too Much?

For the first half of the year, I have thoroughly enjoyed not traveling for business. Unless of course you consider the daily hour-long commute to Schaumburg traveling. At first I kind of missed the traveling, because I wasn't raking in the Southwest Airlines and Hilton points. Furthermore, I missed having nice, expensive meals on my clients' tab. And most importantly, I was spending my own money for food and toilet paper, which now lasts a couple weeks instead of a couple months.

Then on August 25th, things went back to the norm that had been for the last six years: jetting off on business trips every single week. First came a one-night business trip to New York City, followed immediately by a week in Providence, Rhode Island, then consecutive weeks in Seattle. At first it was exciting, because I missed this constant rush to beat the time. I like to play this game of never breaking my stride from the time I leave the door of my house to the time I sit my fat ass on the plane. Efficiency is the game, tempting fate the adrenaline, and J-Ho is my name.

Okay, that last line was kind of corny. I apologize.

Despite my excitement to get back into the groove of things, I think subconsciously my mind is telling me that I may be traveling too much. Have you ever had a dream where you get stuck at a problem or situation, and you can't seem to get out of it? Like being cornered in the wild by a lion, and you don't see a way out, yet your dream never goes so far as the lion committing its final act? And then the dream starts all over the same? It's anxiety, but not so much so that will cause you to wake up.

Well, I had that kind of dream when I slept last night into this morning. The whole dream, which repeated itself a good three or four times, went like this. I was packing to travel for business, and as always, had a flight on Southwest Airlines. I had previously checked into my flight so I could be in the A boarding group, but left my printed boarding pass at home (which happens quite often actually). This is no big deal, as I can always go to the kiosk at the airport to reprint it.

The "stuck" moment of my dream was that when I got to Midway, I had a tough time at the kiosk. Basically, I couldn't reprint my boarding pass, because I didn't know my confirmation number! I struggled and struggled with the computer at the kiosk, while occasionally looking up at the clock just to see my time slipping away, thereby missing my flight. And when I missed the flight, the dream just repeated itself.

I don't know why I didn't wake up from this horrible feeling of anxiety, but I guess it wasn't horrible enough. I mean, metaphorically I never got eaten by the lion in the end, as such would have caused me to wake up in a pool of sweat. And possibly a pool of yellow near my crotch. It was as if I was left hanging on a two-episode television show, ending on a black screen with bold letters "...To Be Continued." Ack!

When I finally woke up at 11:53, I stared at the ceiling and said, "What the f**k was that all about?" Without skipping a beat, I exclaimed, "That was so stupid! All I have to do is punch in #12###75 (my Rapid Rewards membership number) at the kiosk and it'll retrieve all my reserved flights! Doh!" And the scary part to you all is that I actually have committed my Southwest Airlines membership number to memory, just like my Hilton and American Express card numbers!

So, was my mind trying to tell me that I need to stop traveling? What did it all mean? Maybe I'll have a revelation while I nap on my flight to Seattle come Monday afternoon.