Praying for Ash (a/k/a Travel Hell)

Dateline: 30,000 ft over Charlotte (Thursday, April 22 – 11:45 p.m.)

Though I originally meant it tongue in cheek, today is one of those days embedded in one of those weeks in one of those months when, truly, no one would want my life.

It’s nearly midnight, and I’m trying to get home from Richmond, on my third plane after one cancellation, two re-routings, and additional avian indignities (including being ejected from a flight I got on standby after the true seat owner showed up). By the time I get home, I will have been up for 22 hours for a client who won’t let me bill travel time.

I could have stayed in Richmond, of course, but this way, I will wake up in my own bed and send my children off to school tomorrow. And that, my friends, makes all the difference.

Here’s a snapshot of the seventh circle of travel hell.

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Week One: Monday. Up at 4:30 am for the first flight out for two days in Chicago. No, not really Chicago, that would ok (sort of). What I mean by “Chicago,” is a strip mall/fast food/absolutely must-rent-a-car exurb of Chicago. Back Tuesday night, kids already in bed. Wednesday: office, no time for lunch. Thursday, marathon “day trip” to Richmond. Friday: kiss the kids, work from home.

Week Two: Monday, yes, your Honor, it would be my pleasure to spend the entire day travelling to and from Richmond (again!) for a five minute status conference. Tuesday, parent teacher conference (Teacher: “He would definitely benefit from more time with you. Do you think that could be arranged?”). Tuesday night, red eye to London. Arrive 6:45 a.m. GMT. Wednesday, quick shower, new clothes, try to look presentable despite night on plane and jet lag. Listen from somewhere deep inside exhaustion as my disembodied voice explains, “Yes, the Court is requiring you to produce those documents.” (Is that really me talking?) Client insists on long slow dinner. Drink too much and be too jolly. Thursday, Friday, London, London. Saturday, EU. More clients. More drinking. More jolly. Sunday, home.

Week Three: Monday, office. Tuesday, California. Wednesday, California. Thursday night, red eye to New York. Friday, may not get to shower. (Yikes!) Try-to-look presentable despite night on plane and continent lag. Listen to foggy disembodied voice. No time to drink. No time to be jolly. Please, US Air, please: home for dinner?

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Every fall, there is a 2L who says to me, “You travel so much. That must be very exciting.” And you know, perhaps it is. After all, once you get to those places, there are such remarkable people there, and such interesting problems. But, oh my, the journey . . .