Sick of travel-ness - 34 days

Travelling on the train for 9 hours for a two-hour meeting reminds me of how much travelling I've done in the last year, from shuttling back and forward to London for my visa medical, then visa interview, followed by multiple trips to the USA to visit my family. This may not seem like much, but add in the fact that I have to somehow fit in two jobs, with no holiday pay, it has started to take its toll.

Something about travelling alone totally zombifies me. I was so out of it when I returned home from Memphis in July, that by the time I got home and had a nap I couldn’t even remember being on a plane that day. A lot of it comes down to my inability to keep myself entertained.

The idea of talking to the person next to me has popped into my head a few times, but this is usually accompanied by the fear that they might be really boring, or an arsehole. The chances of them being Tyler Durden are very slim. So just reading a book seems like the best bet. The thing is, I can never read books on the plane or train either, I just can't ever get settled into a good reading position. I'm fidgety. Sleeping is also an option but, for the same reason I don't have much success reading, this doesn't work either. I'm even more uncomfortable if I'm sitting next to a stranger, cos I can only face away from them if I want to try and have a nap, when I really need the option to switch sides to make sure both my kidneys get battered by the armrests.

nice place

The novelty factor that comes with flying disappeared a while ago. Particularly since I've been getting exactly the same flights to Memphis for over eight years now. Amsterdam Schiphol is my third home. It's a lovely airport, which is very user friendly, and even better now that I've discovered the Yotel. However, any time I think of flying all I get is the “mind your step” warning from the movey-floor-thing at Schiphol stuck in my head. After you hear the robot woman's voice repeat that a few times you want to tell her to fuck off.

fuck off

Getting searched is also a pain in the nuts. It doesn't matter how organised I am. I'll make sure my flying attire doesn't include a belt or sweater, I'll wear shoes that are easy to remove and put back on, I'll take only the essentials in my carry-on, and make sure there's nothing in my pockets. I'll also have my passport and boarding pass in my pocket ready to wield. But whatever I do I still end up putting my shoes back on whilst hopping away from the conveyor belt, carrying a half opened bag which seems twice as full as when I put it on there, and looking for my travel docs.

I've even got sick of the mushroom and swiss cheese muffins at Edinburgh airport. The last time I was there I ate one bite and threw it away. I used to look forward to paying £5 to eat one of those.

they don't look like they need assistance to me

Then there's the boarding gate. Where everyone forgets that they're not cattle, and push around to get in line, just to get on a plane that they have a seat reservation for anyway. It doesn't bother me if I get on first or last, there's inevitably going to be someone in the row in front of my seat taking their time trying to stuff a suitcase, which is no doubt full of shite, into the overhead bins. I don't like that they are called bins either, you put rubbish in bins. Add to that the prick behind me trying to squeeze by, because seemingly dry humping people on the way to your seat is OK.

The flights themselves are normally fine, with free beer available and edible food, which I always get before everyone else due to my veggie-ness (although I still wait for everyone else to get their food before I eat mine. It just doesn't seem right otherwise). I don't like take off's so much, cos there's that bit where the plane is pointing up, but slowing down, that always shits me up. Landing's are fine though, but for the ear popping. The in-flight entertainment is good, with personalised screens and stuff, unless they inexplicably change the fucking plane like they did the last time.

I always like arriving at Memphis airport, as it reminds me of when I met my wife the first time, and every time I arrive there I'm either with Cassie, or she's picking me up. So it's a nice place. I don't even mind the smell of BBQ that fills the airport, and I've got used to the guys with the big assed guns. However, it's nothing like Amsterdam, because even though I've got of at the same gate every time, I still get lost on the way to the baggage reclaim. It isn't even just me that get's lost there, we get lost every single time on the drive home. Memphis airport is also the place where I was sent to the back of a line of over 100 people because I had stated my nationality was “Scottish” on my green form rather than British. This was my first interaction with Memphians, and I have to be honest, my first reaction was “cunts”.

With one more long haul flight to go, I'm just about done.