Fresh back...

When I first starting working I remember being really drawn into the glamour of business travel - the corporate credit card, the nice hotels, the exotic locales, the suits, the business cards, the idea of being out in the world and being a "professional." I think everyone who doesn't travel for a living goes through that phase because there *is* a certain glamour and cache that applies to air travel when one doesn't have to do it all that often.

I used to run into the road warriors on my scattered travels and would marvel at their lives - running from city to city, being so important that they were on the phone everywhere (In teh waiting room! In the bathroom! On the plane! Right before the door closes! Every minute of productivity counts!), knowing the airport system so well that they knew how to get an exit row seat, when to fight it the delay, and when to fly stand by. I would look at them with a certain sense of envy for not having a back pack and a bulky purse, but instead having rollerboards that fit in the overhead compartment and laptop cases that snapped right on top.

Somewhere along the line I learned, as everyone must, what those road warriors knew by rote - that flying isn't fun when you have to do it all the time and that getting back to normal life is actually kinda nice.

After my first year of pretty regular travel, I understood what those road warriors were always complaining about - the wasted time (especially back in the day before ubiquitous WiFi), the delays, the endless bad food options, the inability to do anything normal - like watch your shows off the Tivo (or Replay, should you so desire), or do the laundry - the inability to schedule anything, because you always were in danger of being "out of town."

I think after the disappointing fall from glamorous grace, but after the patch of incessant complaining about how "nobody knows the trouble you've seen," what you really find at the heart of the road warrior that makes them such a unique animal is their set of coping mechanisms. You see that people learn the four or five things that make traveling more comfortable, and adopt them as MLB-level superstitious pre-flight rituals. I always pack my own lunch now, before I fly anywhere. Others bring pillows, or blankets, or a change of clothes, will only sit in a window, or an aisle, or a bulkhead, or will refuse (so help them Stewardess) to check anything through to the other end.

Having just completed a long two week trip I am starting to realize how fascinating it would be to collect and catalogue all those superstitions and to hear the stories (invariably horror stories, no doubt) that made these warriors into the travelers they are - kind of a catalogue of their war medals, in a way. If I didn't despair so much when someone talked to me on a plane, I would be interested to know - "What's your travel ritual? How did that come about?"

Nothing makes you as annoyingly contemplative as 20+ hours on a plane...

Ever wonder what it would be like to spend a day in a Prada ad?

Of course you have. We all have. Luckily, Ridley Scott, his daughter Jordan Scott, and Miuccia Prada have decided to help you out by turning those bewitching and haute-y ads into a short film. The film is just under five minutes long and is based around an excerpt from Thunder Perfect Mind - a poem from the ancient Nag Hammadi Library. The idea was to create a piece that showed the complexity of being a woman (and, apparently, the enormous wardrobe required to do so elegantly).

Apparently, life in Pradaville would involve tossled hair, tripping a lot (not relaly surprising given the heels), public transportation, swing dancing, and excessively beautiful outerwear. (the model's first coat is absolutely to die for. sigh.)

For I am the first and the last.
I am the honored one and the scorned one.
I am the whore and the holy one.
I am the wife and the virgin.
I am the mother and the daughter.
I am the members of my mother.
...
I am the silence that is incomprehensible
and the idea
whose remembrance is frequent.
I am the voice whose sound is manifold
and the word whose appearance is multiple.
I am the utterance of my
name.

For I am knowledge and ignorance.
I am shame and boldness.
I am shameless; I am ashamed.
I am strength and I am fear.
I am war and peace.
Give heed to me.
I am the one who is disgraced and the great one.

Trashy TV

Make over shows and other trashy television are such a vice, especially over the holiday season. One of the horrible shows I decided to try out is the TLC "10 years younger." The premise, roughly, is that they take a willing participant, have 100 people guess their age (and state why they think they are that age). They then reveal the average age people guessed and compare that to their real age. For the make over, the participants undergo minor cosmetic make over procedures (lasik eye surgery, cosmetic dentistry, microdermabration - no plastic surgery) and then hair, make up, etc. Then they put them back into the public eye and have people guess again. The goal? Look "10 years younger."

The show itself, semi-interesting. Not my favorite make over show, but not terrible. But what makes it fascinating is how BAD people are at guessing ages. They had on a 29 year old who, granted, looked a LOT older than 29, but people guessed she was 45-65. Sixty-five! Not only is that range huge, but mid thirties is really the highest I would've thought you could give someone with such flawless skin. When they were done with her, people actually guessed she was 21. Again, it's hard to figure out how old people are, but to be off by three decades? Goodness.

The other fascinating thing is that people guess the ages for such random reasons. Wearing tapered pants? "They must have bought those 20 years ago - so she must be 50." Bad outfit? Add 15 years. Wearing glasses? Add ten years. Bad (or worse - NO) make-up? Add five years.

It really is eye opening. It makes me want to start guessing ages and seeing how far off I am. It makes me deadly curious to know the average guess on myself and the people around me would be. It also makes me want to Tivo the show more often, just to watch the spectacle. Darn you TLC!