I’m just back from an early airport run on a foggy Friday, of all days, when all I wanted to do was stay tucked in bed. This was not the usual early morning airport run when I would typically be dropping my husband off for a business trip at 5:00am. He, my husband, was in fact very much still tucked in bed. No, this was a volunteer run to the airport on a day when I was not going anywhere at all.
Sometimes a reminder of why we do what we do comes from a most unexpected place.
In the busiest booking season of the year, happening right now, life as a travel planner can quickly become frustrating and monotonous as my days are spent building endless itineraries while researching dozens of destinations and the properties, activities, and amenities found there. It’s all about pairing the perfect options with the right people at a price point that will allow them to have an amazing adventure.
That’s not always easy. My to-do list is long. My follow-up list is long. My waiting-for-answers from-other-people list is long. Wave Season, as the first weeks in January are called, leaves me with a constant whirr of both angst and adrenalin as I build trips before patiently waiting for permission to hit that booking button.
But back to today and that early morning airport run.
A few months ago, I got a phone call from a lovely gentleman wanting help with a trip to San Diego. That seemed pretty straight forward, until I realized the man (and his wife) were a bit more senior than my typical client and had not seen the inside of an airport in over four decades. Four. Decades.
Think back to 1982. Do you remember what airports were like in 1982? When TSA wasn’t a stop on the journey to the gate and anyone at all could make that journey to the gate, regardless of whether or not they had a flight booked? When there were no banks of check-in kiosks? When you could suck on a cigarette as you strolled past other well-dressed passengers as no one opted to show up clad in their favorite pajamas?
Heck, in 1982, airports were often filled with interactions as smart devices had yet to take residence in our hands. You could go to the airport, alone, for a quick flight to grandma’s and leave with the names of a dozen new friends.
When I got that phone call from Michael, asking for help, I had no idea just how much travel as a whole had changed in the last forty, I suppose, because I have traveled while all those changes were happening.
The booking was fairly easy: flights from Richmond to San Diego, a rental car in San Diego, and a hotel fairly close to the Naval Base, where his daughter’s family lives. The first challenge was finding a direct flight so I could remove the jaunt between gates on a layover. Fail. Richmond is not known for its direct flights. Next up, therefore, was arranging a Stryker Chair (an airline wheelchair) and an escort (to push that chair) for Michael’s wife to reduce the amount of walking she’d have to do on travel days. Easy. Rental car reservation, easy. Hotel, easy.
Still, in the weeks leading up to the trip, I could tell that Michael was getting increasingly anxious about navigating those travel days. Finally, a week before they left, I asked if it would be helpful for me to meet him at the airport to do a little hand-holding. He tapped back, “If you don’t mind,” almost immediately.
I did not want to get up before the sun on a foggy Friday when life under the covers was so much better, but I did.
I drove to the airport, manually of all things, as it was too foggy for my car’s self-driving function to function. I arrived at the almost-empty American Airlines counter to explain why I was there, giving the reps a little heads up before my travelers arrived. When Michael and his wife appeared, a few minutes later, they were whisked right past the kiosks and to the counter, where we, admittedly, fumbled through check-in.
Fun fact: I’d also forgotten that, back in 1982, there was no need to have an ID to check in for a flight.
Once checked-in, our pod was directed to a waiting area as the escort was summoned. Minutes later, the chair arrived, and Michael and his wife were set to be whisked off to start their adventure. Before going, Michael turned to me, tears in his eyes, and said, “Thank you so much. We couldn’t have done this without you.”
He was probably right. I cannot imagine the stress and confusion they would have experienced if I hadn’t been there.
The rest of the day didn’t go exactly as planned, with a long delay out of Richmond and a lost bag (now recovered) somewhere along the way. I got updates by the minute that ended, eventually, with a picture from San Diego of that new grandbaby and a text that said, “The payoff!!!”
I imagine (or at least I hope) the flights back will be a bit smoother.
Two of my favorite moments came while we were waiting for the airport escort. First, when Michael was telling me that his daughter could not comprehend the thought that he actually knew how to use GPS. He told me this at the exact moment I was pulling out the paper maps I’d printed for him to use once in San Diego. “Evidently, I don’t believe you either…” I said.
The second was as they were walking away from me and hearing Michael’s wife say, “Can we go somewhere so I can smoke?” The escort responded, “Oh, ma’am, we don’t do that in airports anymore.” Godspeed.
In the land of travel planning, not every booking is a big one, but sometimes, the smallest booking of all is the one that offers the biggest reward. This was one of them. It gave me an amazing reminder of why I got into this field in the first place at the exact moment I needed it. I love traveling. Love it. I do what I do so that I can translate that love to others in ways that work best for them, so that they can love traveling, too.