As I’m scrambling to get all my work done and my bags packed for Costa Rica before Monday, I’m reminded of how different it was taking trips as a kid. Mom held onto your passport and ticket. Dad shuffled you through the security line, talked to gate employees when your flight got delayed or moved, and told you everything was fine when something did go wrong.
Remember what it was like, not being responsible for your own itinerary or well-being? My major upsets as a child while traveling weren’t delayed flights or missed connections. They were things like that time I left my favorite polar bear stuffed animal on a plane and cried about it for two days; or that time our luggage got lost on the way to Italy, so we had to wear the same tourist t-shirt every day until the bags showed up. The worst thing that came of that? Smelling a little overripe.
But even when things got really silly, really messed up, I still felt safe. I could trust the adults I was with to figure out whatever went awry. I could write a whole series of blog posts about why being an adult sucks. Being responsible for your own destiny is one of them–but it’s also one of my favorite things. (more…)