I’m all about health and wellness and age management.
I’m also all about travel. I am on the go-whether for business or pleasure- MUCH of the time.
People always ask me “How do you do it” Don’t you get jet lag? Don’t you get tired of it?”
I must say that jet lag is rarely an issue for me and for whatever reasons (genetics, proper exercise, good luck) I have a tremendous supply of energy.
What I like least about travel are the little annoyances that crop up all too regularly and threaten my sense of sanitation. Herewith, my personal pet peeves that occur while on the road. Not that anyone asked, but here they are:
- Toilet
seat cover failure. Why is it that the toilet seat covers on airplanes
NEVER stay put? Rather, they slide off onto the floor immediately and
are of zero practical use.
I don’t know about you but my idea of
staying germ free while in flight does not include fishing around for a
flimsy piece of tissue on the always wet floor of an airplane bathroom
floor.
We all know that every surface of a bathroom is a treasure trove
of germs and cooties of all sorts even on our own home turf. One can
only imagine what lurks in the lower regions of a frequently trafficked spot like an airplane lounge.
- A Pyrrhic Victory. The only thing worse than a toilet seat cover tissue
sliding off the minute you place it is the toilet seat is when the cover of the
person before you is still clinging to the seat.
First of all, how the
heck did they get the dang thing to stay in place? Next, why is it that
they think it perfectly OK for ME to have to deal with the paper
aftermath of their visit to the john?
I still have not found a method for
pulling off clingy tissue left behind that doesn’t give me the willies.
I’m thinking the airlines need to supply rubber tissue removal gloves
for such instances.
- Airport sink survival. With every airport and with changing technology come a wealth of faucet styles that require an PhD in plumbing. Most airport
faucets now feature automated water dispensing. The problem is that I
never know where to wave my hand to get the water to come out or if I
even need to do so.
Once I figure out the perfect technique to get the
water started the secret is in discovering how to keep it going long
enough to get a good wash. Some have automatic timers that allow about
5 seconds of water before you have to start waving your hands around
again. Others do not and seem to NEVER stop flowing.
In the case of the
former, I am frustrated because I know that to really rid hands of
bacteria one has to scrub for a good solid minute in fairly warm,
sudsy water.
In the case of the latter I have nearly missed flights
because my sense of guilt and fear of wasting water force me to stand
by until the
faucet stops flowing in order that it not run all day, unattended if I
leave too early.
And let’s not even get started on how to achieve the
right temperature out of the newer faucets. Can you say, “SCALDING OR FREEZING AND NOTHING IN BETWEEN?”
- Hot
air hand drying hell. Studies say that those hot air hand
dryers are the most sanitary way to dry one’s hands. I don’t care. I
don’t like ‘em. My hands never get dry and those blowers
are noisy. The problem is that there are not always options and hot air
is the only means offered. That’s when you’ll see me slip back into a
stall and grab a handful of toilet paper to dry my hands and that is a
clingy mess at best. But I prefer that to the air method.
- End
run fever. I probably should have listed this pet peeve first because
it happens pretty early on in the travel process. Security check-in is
no one’s idea of a good time. But nothing gets my dander up faster than
someone who impatiently stands right behind me in the line as I unload
my laptop and take off my shoes before going though the scanner.
You
know the type: they get right up next to you and breath down your neck, nudging your bags with theirs, as though somehow such pressure will actually SPEED YOU UP.
Nuh uh. doesn’t work that way. That is when my little baggy full of liquids invariably tumbles to the ground, (spilling its contents) or my metal belt gets stuck on my waistband and requires even more
time to dislodge before I slowly remove it.
That’s when the eyes on the person
behind me begin to roll back in their head or they cluck their tongue
in disapproval. I want to say, “Stress kills, my friend, and you have
just aged me five years. Back off, fellow traveler, and gimme space!"
