As I sat in the bus, surrounded by people I can only describe as “my peeps”, I smiled. The sun beat down and the hot breeze rippled through the slightly-scorched threes, and I just thought, “Yeah. I…want to.”
I thought back to all of the other solo travels I had attempted - all the missed connections, the “survival food”, the anxious moments, and the moments that made me glad I was alive; and how on so many of those travels, I had reveled in recounting those experiences. How I would see an entertaining exchange between the 2-year-old and her Dad in the row in front of me and chuckle as I thought about how I would describe that moment later for all of you.
Or maybe, I am starting to realize as I lie here by myself, sprawled across a king size bed in Vegas, I did it for myself. Maybe writing about those scary moments, those jaw-dropping views, those fleeting feelings I wanted to catch and hold onto forever - maybe that was my way of processing all of the overwhelming experiences that solo travel is sure to throw at you; one, after another, after another…after another.
Regardless of the reason, I realize from my vantage point of McCarren International Airport from the 27th floor of the Excalibur Resort Hotel, that I love writing. And I am ready to try again - after a very brief, 4.5 year hiatus.
I also realize the no one blogs anymore. But when have I ever been one to do what everyone else does? The thought of doing this has been exciting me for the last hour - most of which was spent waiting to check in. Please keep in mind that the only thing I have eaten in the last 9.5 hours is Gatorade and Fritos (the lunch of champions, my friends!).
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I’m not sure if anyone wonders WHY I end up somewhere or another anymore - some of you have probably just accepted that any given week I might be somewhere different than the week before. Some of you haven’t known me long enough to realize that for years, traveling was my life. But regardless of all of that: I am in Las Vegas. For no particular reason.
 |
| Blurry view from my window, thanks to my dinosaur phone. |
The thought process leading up to this 24.5-hour stop was as follows: June 27, approximately 8pm I land in Vegas for a 3-hour layover. Not long enough to leave the airport but long enough to realize that this is a one-of-a-kind place. July 2, desperately searching for reasonable flights from Mexico City back to Seattle. Nothing; nothing; nothing; a lot of nothing with layovers in Las Angeles, or - you guessed it - Las Vegas! Now… if I’m going to be stopping in Vegas anyway, why not make it worth my while?!
So here I am.
Still not convinced it was worth my while, but at least I am crossing state #44 off my list.
Maybe it’s the heat (100+), maybe it’s the hunger, or maybe I am just out of practice, but the details of the trip have already started to escape me. There are snapshots…
- Repeatedly asking for directions around the CDMX airport and receiving contradictory information.
- Sitting with G, drinking coffee and discussing the logistics of our families’ international travel for an upcoming wedding. (Surprise! It’s ours…)
- Getting stopped in security and having my emergency, pocket corkscrew confiscated. (It’s ok tho, I guess, cause there’s no minibar in my room anyway.)
- Trying to board the plane while a very confused family of 5 attempted to wander up and down the aisle trying to find seats. (Have you ever seen 5 people try to wander up and down an airplane aisle together WHILE others are still boarding?!)
- That overwhelming feeling of smug delight realizing that on an ALMOST full flight, I had a window seat and the middle seat was - wait for it - - - EMPTY! (OMG YES)
- IS THAT THE FREAKING GRAND CANYON?!?!?
- Sitting on the tarmac for half an hour waiting for a gate, listening to phones going off like crazy.
- Breezing through customs but being asked multiple times if I had any food or drink. (Just Gatorade and Fritos, guys. Chill.)
- Catching a minute to charge my dead phone, catch up on work, and figure out the local bus schedule.
- Missing the local bus by 52 seconds.
- And being secretly relieved that I got to sit in the airport (air conditioning) for a few extra minutes - 40 to be exact. (There’s something about sitting in an airport, not having anywhere to be, that has always been incredibly cathartic for me. I remember so many airports… just, sitting, waiting, watching. Knowing that I was not late for anything, I had nothing to rush for, I had nothing at all to do but wait and watch.)
- But 32 minutes later I went to go look for the bus, and there it was with no driver, doors closed, a little, concrete waiting bench. That bench seemed like a nice idea after 10 hours of airports and anxiety. I’d been sitting on it for about 32 seconds when I started to feel like my ass was melting into the concrete. But I was committed. I sat and waited for the driver. And then he showed up; after what seemed like 30 minutes of excruciating, unfortunately NOT fat-melting heat radiating up from that bench through my entire torso (it was only 3 minutes).
- Driving past a McDonalds and wondering, "Was that the one where Chris McCandless worked??" (Spoiler, no. That was edited in the movie...)
- And then there was that moment, sitting at the bus station, watching the burning wind dance through the pale green trees. That moment when I remember that writing has also always been cathartic.
So here I am. Writing.
And also gearing myself to go back out into a world full of very vacationing people, sparkling, spinning, screaming slot machines, and hundred degree heat. (Mostly because I am hungry.)
