Traveling

I used to enjoy traveling a lot more. In my youth. At twenty, spending nine hours at an airport waiting for a connection was a lot more fun than it is today as I near forty. I don’t think it has to do with aging as much as the technological changes. Being stranded in an airport used to mean being stranded, hoping to have enough cash because nowhere took cards, having nothing to do but read a book. I used to read so many books in airports and on flights. Now I play on my phone; we can’t even watch TV because I haven’t found an iPad-compatible splitter. I never think of those things before a trip. This aversion to air travel didn’t start in my thirties, of course. It started in my mid-twenties. Traveling—not by bus—but train and plane used to have a certain amount of fun inherent to it. Not so much anymore.

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