Business or Pleasure?

Yeah, it’s been a while since I last posted.  I’ve been off traveling.  I took the family – or better would be the family took me – to Orlando Florida for spring break.  

Take it from me, Disney world sucks.  They have, however, an admirable business model.  They get folks to pay lots of money to wait in line. 

It is amazing how different business and pleasure travel are.

Pleasure travel begins several days before the time of departure.  The wife asks me to get some luggage out of the storage area.  “Which bags?” I always ask. 

“I don’t know” is always the response.

As an experienced husband, I know that it does not matter which bags I bring up.  They will always end up being the wrong bags and I’ll unpack them, go get different ones, and repack.  So I grab several bags at random out the storage area and put them in our walk in closet. 

The wife frets seriously about what to bring, and she always over packs.  She insists on bringing a set of clothes for everyone in the hand carry luggage.  She also insists that the bags be packed in such a way that if a bag gets lost, everyone will still have clothes.  Lately, she has been insisting that not only we have clothes, but they should be properly coordinated.  So a few matching outfits for each person go into each bag that’s packed.  Of course, being a man, I have no clue what “matches”.  This means that the wife will order me to pack, and I will.  Then she will scream at me that I did it wrong, and repack it herself.   Why not have her pack it in the first place?  I tried that once – it didn’t work out very well.  So, on every trip we play this little theater.  And yes, it starts about 72 hours ahead of departure.

Once the bags are packed, which takes several days to get just right, I drag them all down to the garage and load up the car.

Invariably, five minutes after we pull out of the driveway, the wife remembers something she forgot – and we drive back for it.  I always tell her the plane leaves 30 minutes before it actually does so we have a chance of making the flight.  She also will not acknowledge that in Florida there are Safeways and drug stores and all manner of shopping.  Forget something?  Buy a new one once you get there.  No problem.  She cannot grasp this idea.

At the airport, we park in the off-airport economy lot.  We wait in the cold and rain for 15 minutes for a bus (Hey, it’s Seattle).  We drag all our bags on the bus, which drops us off at the terminal. We stand in a long line to check in, then at a long line at security.  We have 6 carry-ons for four people.  All the computers need to be unpacked, all the shoes off, all the liquids out.  The wife insists in hand carrying all her toiletries so she has 4 one quart plastic bags stuffed to bursting.  It is quite a production to get everything through the scanners.  The folks behind us complain loudly as we unpack everything.

The gate is crowded, the boys end up sitting on the floor.   The wife leans on a wall and makes grumpy noises. With all the carry on bags the wife insists on taking, we need to be first in line to get the bin space, so we squeeze in line with everyone else as soon as boarding commences.  I feel like making mooing noises.  So we stand in line a bit before the plane door opens and elbow our way on the plane.

On the plane we sit in the small coach seats, I’m just too tall to get comfortable.

Let’s contrast this with a business trip.  Just after I returned from Orlando, I headed out for Zurich.

Preparation for the trip beings about 48 hours before departure.  My secretary leaves a manila folder on my desk.  In it is a printed version of my travel itinerary and meeting schedule, maps of the locations of my hotels and where I have meetings, and an envelope containing about $200 of cash in the local currency of my destination (in this case, 200 Swiss francs).  I put this in my briefcase – time spent  - 15 seconds.

About 3 hours before the flight I get a text from the airline reminding me of my trip and telling me the exact departure time and gate.  When I get this text, I go down to the storage area and grab my rolling garment bag and take it up to the walk-in closet.  I put in the suits I’ll wear on the trip.  I have my dry cleaners pack shirts in plastic bags, ready to pack.  I grab however many I’ll need and throw them in the suit case.  I pack up my bathroom things.  In 15 minutes I’m packed (this actually pisses off my wife, who usually takes 3 days to pack for a trip).

An hour and a half before departure, the limo rolls up to the house.  The driver comes to the front door and takes my bag and puts it in the trunk.  I follow him down to the car, and step into the back seat, where a bottle of chilled water and copy of the day’s Wall Street Journal await me.  The driver puts on some light jazz and I enjoy the scenery going by, or read the paper.  If I’m really harried, I’ll do e-mail and voice mail on the way to the airport, but usually not.

My driver drops me off in front of the check-in area, where I check in at the short line, with the frequent flyers.  I always check my bag, so I don’t have to worry about bin space.

At the security line, I can use the frequent flyer line (again short).  I only wear loafers, which slip on and off easily.  My bag – a computer case - can be scanned without any unpacking.  I just lay it out on the conveyor belt.  It takes seconds to get my things ready for inspection.

Once through security, I stop at the Red Carpet Club (United’s lounge), to wait for the flight in a hushed library like room, enjoying a cup of freshly brewed Starbuck’s coffee. 

With just a small bag to carry on, I wait for the crowds to clear before I board the plane.  I’m in first class on the domestic legs, and in business class on the international legs.  I stretch out in comfort and relax.

God, I love business travel. 

Thank God it’s Monday!