Itchin'

I've reached the 21 day mark since I last stepped off an airplane, strolled through the airport, gathered my luggage and sauntered off into the night. Sure, I was a weary traveler on that day having endured some 3889 miles, 3 time zones, and temperature fluctuations of -50 and +20 degrees all in the space of 12 hours, but I survived. It wasn't the end of the world. I'm not the type of traveler that returns from a business trip and complains all the next day in the office about what a grind it is to travel. Well, of course, that would require that I went to the office the next day. But that's not the point. I'd never utter such a thing anyway. Travel for me is not about the act of being transported and how comfortable or how long or how late. No, for me its about motion. I love to be going. Staying is no good. I've got to go. Where? Anywhere.

It's not that I don't like it here, because I do. There's no other place like it. I need that rush of adrenaline that only comes from motion every once in awhile. Remember in Raiders of the Lost Ark when Harrison Ford is running from that huge rolling boulder and the whole world is falling apart around him and he's running and it seems like it's the end for him but he's totally in his element and the world seems to move in slow motion around him even though he's going through tremendous peril? Then in the very next scene he's got on the John Lennon/George Burns round eyeglasses and he's wearing a very modest (albeit stiff) grey, three piece suit with a chain watch hanging out of his pocket and he's trying to give his lesson to some depression era, Indiana University anthropology students who look like they'd be equally at home on the set of Smallville (one of which is flirting with Dr. Jones with suggestive messages written on her eyelids in, of all things, eyeliner), and he's lecturing with all the intensity and fervor of the love child of Snufalufugus and Droopy the Dog. He just seems out of place. He's like what would have happened if there had been a Top Gun 2 and Tom Cruise's Maverick had actually become an instructor and he himself put on some round glasses and tried to impress upon Goose's son (who goes at it with Wolfman's nephew during this one since Iceman's kid was kicked out of the Navy when his meth lab exploded in the hangar) the importance of not going below the hard deck.

I'm like Darryl Hannah in Splash and if I don't get back on a plane soon, I'm going to start singing the high pitched songs that let you know that I'm live and not Memorex and I'm going to turn back into a fish and its not going to be a pretty sight. Oh yes, I've got to go. The novelty of the office has long since worn off. It was nice to come back in and be the envy of all the co-workers as they ask you "how was it?" and to give them the nonchalant "it was iiight" as I share some mundane details trying to give them a little nugget of something remotely interesting that they might want to hear so that they can remain envious, all the while dreading the predictable segue out of that small talk session with something original like, "I don't know how you can take all that traveling" or "better you than me" or "back to the grind". How I take it? As if coming in here is any fabulous treat. Better me than you? Of course. I get off on the minutiae. I live for things like the guy having a meltdown in row 19 because his Volkswagen Jetta sized carry-on won't fit in the overhead and they're forcing him to check his luggage. I secretly enjoy the brakes being locked while the engine is revved up to full throttle before we go hurtling down the runway at Orange County's John Wayne Airport only to cut the engines at 10,000 feet and float (and yet I'm deathly afraid of Ferris Wheels).

The second week back is fairly relaxing. The whole first week, you try to play catch-up on all of the issues you missed while you were off with the client that you flew to see and now during the second week, you're finally back at ground zero with a fresh set of issues that you get to run with for the foreseeable future. About midway through this second week, I start to keep an ear to the ground for where I might be headed next. Everybody that has a hallway conversation within earshot of my cubicle starts to sound like the ever informative barking of Lassie the Dog. "What's that, Lassie? Little Timmy's network is down and all of his subscribers are screaming bloody murder?" I start to drop little not-so-subtle hints to my boss about hitting the road again.

"Should I book my travel or are we going to let Brilliant Networks plug in that power supply on their own. You never can be too careful about those, you know...."

By the third week, I'm starting to get the shakes.

"The airport be callin' me, Nino...it be callin' me!"

I stare off into space alot. My co-workers are having conversations on issues with which I am involved, and I can't concentrate on what they are saying because I'm too busy listening for words like "on-site" and "swap out" and "support". One of my co-workers sat down across the desk from me today to brainstorm on an issue that we just haven't been able to figure out and suddenly I was Dr. Melfi talking to Tony Soprano.

"So, perhaps the system is feeling a sense of anxiety due to its lack of acceptance within the antiquated eco-system of the customer's legacy network...."

He just stared back at me blankly. I've got issues. I love the airport. I remember being awed by the planes whizzing down the runway as I peered through the big windows at the airport as a kid. Remember? That was when you could take somebody to the airport and go all the way to the gate with them and stay there as long as you liked even if you weren't flying that day? I still enjoy that. There's something comforting about 17 planes lined up on the runway at LAX, waiting to take off. I love it.

Besides that, this being at home stuff is breaking me. It's too expensive to keep gas in the car and food in the refrigerator all the time. When I'm not on the road I feel like that episode of Charlie Brown where Linus lost his special blanket, only mine is the company credit card. It comforts me. I take solace in it. I sleep easy at the hotels knowing that the City Tax, State Tax, County Tax and Room Service charges will be covered by the card. There's nothing quite as warm as a nice Corporate American Express to keep you warm in a lonely city.