EDITOR AT LARGE
“It’s not the destination, it’s the journey.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson
S itting deep in the bowels of terminal one at Pearson, the visibility through the window is near zero. Meteorological models were predicting between three and five centimetres in total, but I swear I’ve seen that fall in the two hours I’ve been waiting to board my flight. And I’m starting to question Mr. Emerson’s logic… This trip marks the first vacation abroad my wife and I have taken in over five years. Sure, there have been a sprinkling of press trips here and there, but travel for work – even when it lands us spoiled journalists in exotic locales – is never the same as travel for pleasure. There is much more pressure – or maybe it’s just a longing? – for everything to go right. That and, the missus is usually left at home. That’s probably why the family of five, two rows over, are fretting in such an animated manner. I’m having enough trouble staying positive for my wife and I, let alone haranguing a couple of munchkins and a pint-sized therapy dog that’s been force fed enough trazadone to blunt Keith Richards. The CBC recently ran an editorial that declared the golden age of air travel will never return. Security, pricing and competition have all conspired to reduce the experience of air travel to something akin to being crammed into a Route 501 TTC streetcar or the 319 TransLink Bus – a terrible yet necessary experience. As someone who’s enjoyed both the fruits of first class – the meals come with actual cutlery! And
your cocktails (yes, cocktails) are served in proper glassware – and suffered at the indifference of economy – May I have a?… oh, never mind – I can confirm that, while the flight is inarguably less insufferable with all of the spoils, I really didn’t care. The only thing I was concerned with, regard- less of seating assignments was the destination. Which is weird because, as a motorcyclist, the journey is always the destination. I’ve planned and executed entire weeks around roads alone, never really giving thought to an endpoint other than not retracing my wheelmarks. As a motoring enthusiast, I feel much the same. Road trips require the most circuitous and engaging routes. Little concern is given to the kilo- metres being logged, only that they be as much fun, picturesque or winding as possible. When we’re lucky, we get all three! Sure there’s an ultim- ate destination but really, that’s just where we turn around. The trip is the destination. I try to reconcile my duelling concepts of travel as the PA crackles again overhead. The infinitely apologetic voice is there to let us know that our flight will be further delayed. Something about the plane needing to being towed to the gate before it can be sanitized and stocked. Towed, you say? I wonder how Ralph would feel about me stealing some trazadone from that dog… Man, I can’t wait to finally get to Cozumel.
MATTHEW NEUNDORF Editor At Large | VICARIOUS mneundorf@vicariourmag.com
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