Road warriors are frequent travellers. Business people (men - ugh), who live their lives out of a suitcase. There is an illogical sense of prestige attached to the notion.
It is a misnomer, as frequent flyers don’t have that much contact with the road.
I am a train track warrior. Many many miles and kilometres on the tracks. I must have mentioned in a previous blog it’s an addiction.
Friends pity me, and ask how I am coping with all the travel. It’s like the preconceived judgement and pre-programmed thing to say.
I don’t get it.
Last night I was staying in a hotel suite. Tidy. Zen. Nespresso machine (that’s another story). For dinner I had BEEF TENDERLOIN FROM WELLINGTON COUNTY. 7oz filet + tahini sweet potato puree + swiss chard + parsnips + baby beets + turnips + garlic confit + balsamic & caramelized onion butter + jus.
Back home I am in the shoddily tied space I share with a young adult son. The best I could do for dinner was Mr. Noodles.
How do I handle all that travel? One does what one has gotta do. Yes. I deserve a medal.