All You Have to Do is Buy a Ticket

A co-worker asked where Clyde and I were going on our next big trip. When I told him we were going to Hong Kong and Tokyo right before Thanksgiving, his eyes opened wide and he shook his head with disgust.

"You ... jet setter!" he said.

He didn't mean anything bad, I don't think. But it amazes me how most people think that world travel is beyond them. I used to be that way until I met Clyde.

My annual trips to San Diego were the extent of my travels. I bought the least expensive plane tickets - the ones with a stop in Houston (a thousand miles out of the way) in the middle of the night. I rented cars from the low cost places where they often ran out of the economy model I reserved. So they bumped me up to something huge like a Yukon which I had to fit into the tiny parking spot at the cheap hotel, where the shampoo comes in a paper envelope.

Then I started hanging out with Clyde and realized, and I said this to my co-worker, that it's easy to go to Hong Kong. All you have to do is buy a ticket and go.

The world is so small now. You can go anywhere. All it takes is money. Then again, my perspective may be that of a relatively financially well off old white man. My dental hygienist, Chris, who I also saw this week (my teeth are fine thank you) is young, I would guess in his 20s. He went on a "once in a lifetime" trip to Japan last spring. Chris is still paying off the credit cards he maxed out to go and he says he won't be going anywhere again for a while.

I remember travel in my 20s. I never saved up to go anywhere. All of it went on credit cards. I never stayed in hotels, always with friends or relatives. Or friends of friends or relatives. I slept on a dining room floor on my first visit to San Francisco. I got around on BART and the public bus, not in a rental car. I hung out with lots of other young people, including some sailors I met who were on leave. It's not what it sounds like, but I did become acquainted with someone under that dining room table.

Anyway, back to the present. Clyde and I put travel at the top of our priorities. We live in a modest home. We drive ordinary cars. We have no debt except a small mortgage, so we can afford two big trips a year and a couple of small ones.

We do get around. But jet setters? I guess I've been called worse.

And with Clyde, I no longer stay in cheap hotels. He has years of corporate travel under his belt with all the benefits. So we rarely stay anywhere but the Marriott. I love the Marriott with its all you can eat breakfast buffets and wonderful coffee. Even in the most humid cities (Hong Kong, Rio), our room is chilly with air conditioning.

That's how grownups travel.

My poor co-worker just bought a house in Arvada. As Clyde and I watch YouTube videos about Japan in order to make plans for our trip, he's probably scraping together his next house payment and college tuition for the kids.

It was fun all those years ago, but I prefer traveling in my 50s with Clyde to crashing under furniture even with, um, temporary travel acquaintences.


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Summer TV Dearth Calls for Alternative Entertainment

It's summertime during an Olympics year. So basically there's nothing good to watch on TV. I have no interest whatsoever in the over-hyped racket that is the summer games. Reruns of favorite shows only go so far and a person can only binge on so much Netflix before it seems like everything has been watched. I have already finished the entire first season of Crazy Ex-Girlfriend. So while Clyde studies Greek on the sofa next to me, I have to find new ways to entertain myself. I reach for the computer and stumble on to:

Old documentaries on YouTube.

Favorites include old films about transportation, the miracle of modern travel by car or train in the 1930s, 40s, and 50s.  There's one about taking a bus from New York to Pittsburgh. What an adventure it is! Everyone is all dressed up - the ladies in dresses, the boys and men in jackets and ties. Everyone is so polite. Everyone is white. Did people really dress like that to take the bus? Of course, other black and white YouTube videos tell me that the really modern way to travel is by plane. Women in the 1940s wear their best furs as they board the sleek, shiny DC-3. The air-hostess pours coffee into a delicate china cup on a dry saucer. There is no hint of turbulence or air-sickness. Only the promise of a four course meal as the trip from one coast to another is cut by three days compared to that silly old-fashioned train on the ground. It certainly doesn't look like flying today, where you bring your own sandwich smashed into your carry-on and the other passengers wear flip-flops and tank tops as they reach over your head to jam their luggage into the overhead bin.

My other favorites are those films made in the early and mid 20th century about "the future" - the year 2000 and beyond. Amazingly, they predict some of our technology pretty accurately. One series done by Walter Cronkite in the 1960s, predicts reading the newspaper online, accessing your office without leaving home, and quickly cooking a meal with a microwave oven. What the futuristic films fail to take into account is the social change that also occurs before the 21st century. For example, in the futuristic kitchen where a meal practically prepares itself, it's always a full time, stay at home housewife in pearls and an apron who pushes the button after she finds out via video-phone what her husband wants for dinner.

It's also fun to watch the old sex education films. To think that some of them are probably still in use today.

I don't just watch old stuff on YouTube.

In light of where Clyde and I are planning to honeymoon next month, I've recently watched some helpful videos on how to be a good tourist in France. For example, I've learned that in restaurants, you don't get the check until you ask for it. Many an American tourist waits and waits and waits for the check, expecting it will just appear like it does at home. It's one of those little differences that leads to unnecessary misunderstanding and frustration between nations.

Just for fun, I decided to look at a video advising visitors to the United States. Do you know what frustrates them more than anything? Is it that we have a myopic world view or don't speak other languages? Is it that we're loud and boastful and think that we own the whole world? Nope. Foreign visitors hate our sales tax. Think about it. The price tag says one thing, but when you go to pay for it, you have to pay more. Wouldn't that just aggravate the hell out of you if you weren't used to it?

You can learn anything from watching YouTube. You can learn how to tie a tie, how to clean your bathroom, or how to make a paper airplane.

When our oven didn't work one night, we found a video about a similar problem on the same model and learned how to fix it. Of course we didn't actually fix the oven because we don't have any tools, but we at least had an idea about what was wrong with it.

I recently stumbled onto a series about personal grooming, including some tips about shaving that my father never taught me. Let's just say that some people groom areas of their bodies these days that Dad probably never thought to do.

I haven't even begun to scratch the surface. There are more hours of entertainment, news, cat videos, and other countless ways to pass summer evenings than I could ever imagine. Who needs to watch the Olympics  on TV anyway? If I want, I can just catch the highlights on YouTube.