I find myself packing…again. When I first moved up into my apartment, I was amazed at how often my roommates traveled. Every weekend it seemed like. And when they weren’t gone for work, they took the weekend to go back home, to visit friends and family.
Most people in New York City don’t spend their weekends strolling down 5th Avenue and meandering through The Met and The MOMA. They escape. (I’m still looking for a statistic to support me on this, but all I can find are travel guides and tips for all the people who want to escape the city. I decided that in itself was good enough support for now.)
At my job, the traveling seems to come in spurts, and I’m in the middle of the first one. Three weekends ago, I was in Orlando. I spent the last week and a half in DC. I got back yesterday and tomorrow I’m going to Cape Cod.
I can see how it might become exhausting to travel every weekend, to avoid the grocery store because any food would just go bad, to unpack and repack a suitcase every few days. But traveling for work gives me a sense of adulthood. And yet the excitement of it all reminds me how young I am, how new I am to this life.
I didn’t take many photos in Orlando, but I did remember to document the first hotel room I stayed in for business purposes.
As I mentioned earlier, New Yorkers escape for fun as well as for work, so I sandwiched my week-long course in DC between two weekends on the town. Julie and Keith are still there, and as a little group of journalism nerds, we went to see the Library of Congress and the Newseum.
After I get back from a Cape Cod Thanksgiving, I’ll be off to San Francisco for one night, for one dinner, before flying across the country again to my little room in Hoboken, NJ. And as much as I’ve enjoyed all this escaping, I’m sure my suitcase won’t mind hiding under my bed for a few months after all this excitement.