Travelin' Man

Thursday, 14 January 2010

Origin: Allen Park, MI, a suburb of Detroit
Destination: Palampur, Himachal Pradesh, India

Thursday, 14 January, 2010
8:20, Detroit time
The bus is now leaving from the Rosa Parks transit center in Detroit, headed for Chicago. The plane ticket that I bought months ago originated from Chicago, because that was about $500 cheaper than leaving from Detroit. I just figured that I would figure out some way to get to Chicago the day of or the day before my flight, and it ended up being an $18 Megabus ticket.

Don’t do it. My driver was one of the rudest people I have ever met. After putting our bags under the double-decker without letting us in, he lined us up in front of the bus (at 8 in the morning in slightly-above-freezing weather) and lectured us how we were to board: by reading our conformation number to him out loud, including the dashes. Then when I get on with my backpack and very, very small duffel, smaller than my backpack (my big duffel was already under the bus), he says “No sir, only one bag allowed to be checked and one to take on the bus.” He could have mentioned that before. I offer to throw my duffel under the bus, and he stops me and rudely insists that I put my backpack, with my computer and travel documents, under instead. I hardly have those words out of my mouth when he loudly retorts with a “That’s enough, sir. Either do what I say or I’m leaving you here. That’ll end the argument.” This micro-confrontation was repeated at least three more times.

12:21, Chicago time (subtract one hour from the previous section)
When we finally arrive at Union Station in Chicago, the driver, whose mood has improved little, proceeds to dump the luggage from the hold into the filthy mud and city slush. I carefully pick up my backpack, only to have him throw another bag practically on top of it, splashing mud onto my light khaki pants. The pants that I’ll be wearing for the next three days, at least.

D’oh!

Needless to say, it could have been a better first leg of my marathon traveling. However, I like to keep things in perspective. If that’s the worst thing that happens for the rest of my trip, I’ll be a happy camper.

13:40
A cab ride to O’Hare from Union is $36.30! Wow.

First flight to London doesn’t depart until 21:07 + can’t check bags until four hours prior to departure = lots of waiting. Since I can’t check my bags, I don’t want to be carrying them around the city for several hours, so it looks like I’m stuck here with my books. At least I came prepared.

Book list:
The Life of Pi by Yann Martel
Holy Cow by Sarah Macdonald
Julie & Julia by Julie Powell (get off me; I know it turned into a chick flick, but the writing is actually pretty darned good)

The last book I am hesitant to name, because it is one of the raunchiest, dirtiest, most crude, most horrible books I have ever read, but I’ll be damned if it isn’t also the funniest. People were giving me dirty looks and wondering aloud what I was reading because I was laughing so loudly. I’ll just say that the main character’s name is Tucker Max. Find it and read it at your own risk.

15:53
I love people watching, and there are fewer better places to do it than at the airport. I’m not even close to Sherlock Holmes, but what I do like to do is observe the way people act, dress, talk, walk, and the things they have and ask myself, why? Why is that person doing that, or why do they have that object? What drives them?

There’s the professionally-dressed woman wearing a headset and talking on the phone, walking at breakneck pace in a straight line. Never wavering, she intersects with a large family dragging suitcases, and they are forced to move around her, accommodate her. Like a stone in a river, she can’t be moved, even while she’s already moving. Question: what’s so important in her life and on her call that she can’t break her stride to avoid running into fellow human beings?

There’s the guy in khakis and a button-down, carrying a wheeled suitcase and what cannot be called anything but a purse. Headphones are plugged into his ears, and I can only assume that the other end is plugged into an iPod, since they’re now requirements for U.S. citizenship. And he’s whistling. His smile is so wide you would need to break it in pieces to fit it through the metal detector at the security checkpoint. Question: what’s on his playlist that can bring so much happiness to him in a place filled with so much negative emotion?

There’s the young woman wearing standard female U.S. college attire (Ugg boots, leggings and North Face) staring at her phone, not making calls or even pressing buttons, just staring at the main menu. She’s been there for hours now, probably got there too early to check in like I did. Question: what’s so important with that piece of plastic and microchips that you can’t do anything but stare at it like a golden calf?

And so on. After awhile, I began to see a pattern in the way people were moving, and I realized that there are two groups of people. There are those who are going somewhere, and those who aren’t. That doesn’t mean that people from Team 1 need to be somewhere or have a specific destination in mind. Nor does it mean that Team 2 is idle, taking up space and wasting oxygen with no motivation whatsoever. To me, it’s just in the way people perceive the next moments in time. For example, I have tickets in hand and a bag to check, but that doesn’t mean I have to rush to the check-in counter, rush to security, rush to my gate, and rush off the plane. Why? I’m not late, and I have a watch. I’m either going to wait in line in one place or the other, and it doesn’t matter much to me where.

If you are thinking about future events and preoccupied with what’s coming next in your life, you have a destination. You’re a mover, a goer, a rusher. It’s not a bad thing at all, don’t take it that way. It just means that the future is more important to you than the present. If you are more content with enjoying yourself in the moment, you’re a stayer. You can look around even with the walls are crumbling down to criticize the architect who designed the walls in the first place. The way I see it, those are the two types of people in the world.

Well, I guess there are the people who focus on the past.

Damn. There goes my brilliant logic. I guess I’ll just tell the folks at MacArthur to wait a bit longer.

17:58
I thought the culture shock was supposed to come after you leave your country and start to see new things and experience new customs.

There’s this new thing in O’Hare’s restrooms called a Sani-Seat. It’s a normal toilet seat with a continuous plastic… um… thing covering it. It’s so hard to describe. When you enter the stall, you wave your hand over the sensor and a new section of clean plastic feeds out of a machine, replacing the used portion. That way, every time a person sits down, they can do so on an unused surface.

When I entered the stall, I literally stopped in my tracks with my hand on the door, staring at this thing. I didn’t know whether to sit on it or use it to wrap a fruit basket. WTF, mate?

Anyway, I’m through security, and it’s only about three more hours until my flight leaves. My book is calling to me.