Things I fear — right now! — as you read this. Because I’m stepping on an airplane with two college students. We’re venturing off to Birmingham, Ala., for a Society of Professional Journalists Conference. They’re not professionals yet, but they’re the co-editors of the college newspaper I advise. They’re also up for a couple of awards — nice, important ones — and we’re going to collect them.
But that means traveling together. Journeying afar. Getting on a plane, riding in a taxi, staying in a hotel, eating food, spending quality time together, etc., etc., etc.
TRAVELING WITH COLLEGE STUDENTS!!!! Someone please send help.
Hey, really they’re two great and talented kids. Older, more mature, not innately dangerous (that I know of) and not the types who will throw keg parties in their hotel rooms or say something obnoxious going through airport security that gets us sent to Guantanamo.
I like these two, and trust them. BUT … they’re still college students, we’re still traveling, Murphy’s Law is in effect, and we have a one-hour layover in Atlanta on the way back.
Oh, we’re doomed!
Travel is hard enough as it is. I love it and hate it at the same time. It’s an adventure, not unlike those outdoor endurance races you see on TV. Scale a mountain, avoid a hungry bear, slip off a waterfall, get attacked by bees and arrive at the finish line tattered and torn with at least one of your limbs missing.
And a couple of college students add a wild card to the mix. They can be like herding cats. (In fact, the expression comes from ancient Greece where it was originally, “like herding college students. May God be with you!”)
When I first found out we won these awards, I told one of them I would see if we could go, but that airline tickets were already kind of pricey.
“Well, I don’t mind if we just fly coach,” he replied.
I just stared at him. “What did you think we were going to fly? First class?!?” I asked him, desperate to keep a straight face.
Needless to say, a mind like mine is already calculating the endless number of possibilities and things that could go wrong. I have snake bite kits, college student bite kits, needle and thread, survival rations, calming flute music on an iPod, rain gear, tornado gear, locusts-falling-from-the-sky gear, and plans for any number of eventualities.
Worrying is one of my hobbies, and no doubt I’ll be doing my fair share on this trip. Big things, and little. Like when I go through security and take my shoes off, will there be a hole in one of my socks?
Worse would be collecting my things on the other side of the X-ray only to find one of my shoes is now missing. Ever worry about something like that? What would you do? Can you continue on with only one shoe? Is that against federal or airline regulations? (No shoes, no shirt, no service applies here, too.) Imagine the shame — the embarrassment — of being held off a flight because you’re missing a shoe. Having to wrap a bunch of paper towels around your foot with “Nike” crudely scrawled across just to be allowed to your seat.
What if I lose one of the students? Should I implement the buddy system, like we used to do in third grade? Should I bring some rope that we can all hold as we walk about town?
I don’t know. I’m new to this.
I’m worried about making it to the airport on time. To the awards luncheon on time. To the return flight on time. Shoot, I’m worried over what to talk about with a couple of 20-somethings for more than five minutes. (Actually, I know from personal experience that after 5 minutes they’ll start texting friends and tuning me out. That’s a relief!)
I love working with college students, and these two are great. I just need to keep reminding myself that. How this trip is really very exciting and worth it. I’ve won my share of awards over the years, but I’ve never been as jazzed up as I am for these two.
So it’s a really big deal. Big enough to overlook all those potential travel obstacles. Big enough to brave locusts and the threat of someone getting me strip-searched by security. And certainly big enough to suck it up and suffer one of the great indignities of modern day travel: flying coach. (Dude! Why don’t they just ship us in the baggage hold.)