The
Doldrums of February
February may be the shortest
month of the year, but it
has always felt excruciatingly
long to me. It’s been
cold and gray here in the
northeast since November,
and if history has taught
me anything it’s that
the weather won’t truly
get better until the middle
of April. Well, at the earliest.
So this places February nearly
two thirds of the way through
the dreary season, a time
when maddening cabin fever
is coupled with brooding pessimism
about the prospects of ever
seeing sunshine again.
This
is precisely why I am writing
this while sitting in the
terminal of the airport in
Tampa, Florida. I arrived
yesterday morning and will
be leaving in about six hours.
Why am I in Tampa, Florida
for one day? Well let’s
just say when wanderlust,
temporary insanity, opportunity,
and free tickets and backstage
passes to a Jimmy Buffett
concert all knock at your
door at the same time, you
answer.
Yes,
it’s a bonzai trip.
Yes, I will be tired tomorrow.
But it temporarily and harmlessly
relieves my wanderlust while
allowing me to see a few palm
trees, a sight that always
restores my optimism that
spring will someday return
to the northeast.
As
I sit here killing time until
my flight, I’m wondering
why I still feel the need
to occasionally up and run
away. I mean, 2002 was a pretty
good travel year: the Grammys
in Los Angeles, camping in
New Hampshire, DisneyWorld,
and Key West. But it wasn’t
enough - it’s never
enough. I’m already
anxiously anticipating the
next trip, the next adventure.
Why? Maybe because I don’t
want to end up like the woman
who sat next to me on the
flight down.
This
woman, in her early sixties,
clearly had not traveled much
in her life. To wit: as the
ground crew loaded the baggage
into the plane with a resounding
THUD, she looked at me panicked.
“What was THAT sound?”
she asked. “Luggage,”
I said.
As
the flight progressed, her
comments about life, houses
and Florida and her ever-present
paranoia about all things
airplane made it clear that
the she was drawing on a very
limited set of life experiences.
Maybe that’s her choice
and perogative.
But
not for me. I’ve learned
that the greatest moments
in my life have come when
I’ve thrown caution
to the wind and jumped off
the metaphorical cliff. Yeah,
it’s scary, because
to do it right involves no
parachute. But the end result
is a collection of unforgettable
experiences and true growth.
As Jimmy Buffett once wrote,
“You do it for the stories
you can tell.”
That’s
the life I want to live, and
that’s exactly why I’m
here in Tampa. I want to seize
opportunities. I want to feel
alive. I want to learn and
experience everything and
I don’t ever want to
stop.
Now
if you’ll excuse me,
I’m going to go see
what I can learn from the
Krispy Kreme kiosk on the
other side of the terminal.
This
column © 2003 Lee Totten.
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