He's pointing out the emergency exits but he's won't make eye contact while he does it.
7am. I just arrived from my 6am flight to catch the next. Everyone is pretty buttoned up on the way there.
I don't think I've ever NOT sat behind someone's balding head.
Cab to the airport. I cut it way too close and brought food into the car. I was giving a talk while everyone else was eating. I asked for permission to eat it in his taxi and he said ok. Thank God.
I promised myself I would have a hot meal for dinner, even though it meant eating on my lap between strangers I don't look at.
The women's bathroom in the airport lounge. I'll walk miles to use the washroom in the lounge. It's clean, quiet, and has reasonable sink/counter areas. Monday night a woman was in there washing her make up off in the sink. As I approached I couldn't help but let out a huge sigh out of exhaustion. She looked at me... I looked at her and all we could do was laugh. Because what are we even doing?!
Having a meticulously routine set up means never forgetting to bring anything and never leaving anything behind.
There's no space that's just your space.
I'm not alone; I'm on my phone.
Expenses. The gift that keeps on giving, courtesy of travel.
Line up to wait for your zone so you can get on the plane first. At first this seemed so stupid but I quickly learned that if you don't get on asap, some asshole will steal your overhead compartment and then you're left holding the bag, pun intended. A long time ago before I fully understood this process I "budded" and this fat dude lost his shit and we had words. Scarred me. There is frequent flyer code. You follow the fucking code.
The evening flights are a more relaxed, less buttoned version of the morning flights.
I keep shooting this like an observer; like I do. And for a long time I kind of was just an observer in the realm of frequent fliers. But I realize that now of course, I'm one of these people and I largely follow the rules and roles. So, here I am, on my way.
In the airport lounge. Always dudes in white shirts.
In business class, men read about markets and clear their throats excessivly.