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Daydream about a trip. You’re currently sitting in an office chair that has permanently memorized the shape of your butt. But imagine if you were sitting on a beach, sun-baked sand between your toes. Or on the steps of an ancient ruin. Or at a rustic wooden table, drinking great wine with beautiful locals with whom your only shared language is laughter. This is possible, you know. The world is your oyster, and it’s filled with amazing, faraway places that are begging you to visit them!
Book it. That’s right—you’re doing it. You’re really doing it. In a few clicks and a few short months, you will be somewhere else, becoming a happier, more interesting person who will return home with a happier, more interesting life. You deserve it. Ride this high all the way to the airport.
Forget all about your trip. Sorry, but you actually have an insane amount of stuff to do before you leave. You’re so distracted by the pressures and responsibilities of everyday life that you barely remember where you’re going on vacation. It turns out that planning a trip also takes time and energy, neither of which you have right now. There is no future. This is no past. There is only a 4 P.M. meeting that you already know you’ll be late for.
Panic about going. You’re somehow boarding a plane in thirteen hours and have no idea when you’ll have time to do laundry before then. You also have no idea what to pack, because the forecast is all over the place, and what if you receive an impromptu invitation to a gala? You bring seven pairs of shoes for the week, just in case. Wait, did you remember your passport? What is T.S.A.’s liquid limit, again? You regret ever wanting to leave your home and decide that travel is ultimately overrated.
Go on the trip. You’re finally in the sky and can sit back and relax now. Except the kid behind you is kicking your seat, and the stranger across the aisle, wearing those creepy Vibram toe shoes, has now decided to take them off, which is somehow worse than wearing them. You wake up to the sound of a flight attendant announcing that sandwiches are available for thirty-four dollars, but they’re out of mustard, so don’t even ask. You land in another country starving and ready to fight someone.
Ease into it. O.K., time to make the most of your stay in this gorgeous, new place. But, first, why not spend the entire afternoon in your Airbnb? And a little nap wouldn’t hurt, would it? You wake up unsure of what continent you’re on as very real jet lag kicks in. You fight exhaustion for the next forty-eight hours while trying to soak up the local sights and sounds, surrounded by countless other tourists trying to do the exact same thing. Hey, there’s Toe-Shoes Guy from your flight—you glare at him while eating gelato (or the national equivalent).
Enjoy your trip. Today was a great day. You’ve finally adjusted to the time difference and started to relax. You explored and indulged. You just had one of the best meals of your life with someone you love while watching the sun set. This is what it’s all about.
Panic about leaving. You suddenly remember that you’re heading home in less than thirty-six hours and have barely scratched the surface of your itinerary. You try to pack in as much as possible, which leads to a fight between you and your travel companion about how to spend your last precious day. The idea of returning to the airport fills you with a dread that undoes most of the happiness and relaxation that you’ve built up since your arrival.
Mourn your trip. Once again, you find your butt in that familiar office chair, wondering if you ever really went on vacation. What did you even do, again? You scroll through your photos to make sure it wasn’t a fever dream. You’re smiling in the photos. You are not smiling now. You miss the ocean and hate your in-box. Worst of all: you still need to unpack.
Repeat once a year. Twice if you’re lucky, until you die. ♦
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