Not that long ago, there was a time when I worked every single weekend of every single month, for almost a year straight. It was horrible. Now that I have weekends off, I’ve come to embrace the luxury of seemingly endless free time. But yesterday, I did have to work, and it was really great, mostly because I was on yet another business trip!
This time I headed up to New Hampshire for an interview that I got to do on my own! I was totally excited for several reasons:
1. Getting free things: a flight to Boston and a rental car
2. Getting to pretend I was Diane Sawyer: my idol and the reason behind 99% of my career choices
The trip started out smoothly enough–I was relieved to find a normal car had come to pick me up after mis-hearing him say “Your limo is waiting outside.” Despite my daydreams about being a famous person, I am not actually a famous person and don’t think my boss would have been to pleased about that particular expense! But I arrived at the airport early, the flight left on time, they served snacks, I had coffee and we touched down shortly after. Then it was off to the rental car place.
Because there was a line and I was essentially paranoid the entire day about being late, I did an automatic check in. And because I am stupid, I did not get a GPS. Being the directionally challenged lady that I am, I drove approximately 500 feet before realizing I was heading in the wrong direction. Do you understand how directionally challenged you have to be to get out of an airport parking lot?? But I did a U-turn, and then another U-turn, and then I idled at the stop light, looked over my written directions and managed to finally make the correct turn to head on my merry way.
Now, as a driver from New Jersey, I am used to being told miles in advance about an upcoming exit. I am used to seeing enormous detour signs every five feet until the detour. I am used to highway lanes. I am used to being fully aware of what highway/route/direction I’m going because of clearly labeled markers. People in Massachusetts don’t really seem to follow this creed. There was an area called a rotary, which is a large circle with various turnoffs on either side. There were literally no lanes, cars swerving and veering every which way, and pedestrian crossings at the sharpest curves. I saw the sign for the turnoff for US1 once, and it was about the size of a postage stamp. It was ridiculous.
But amazingly, I made it to I95 in one piece, and started cruising with the music blasting. I was really just loving life, loving my job, loving the fact that I made it to I95 without having to call my dad. I was even enjoying the radio station I was listening to, which is rarer than the rarest rarity. I was singing along to “Hotel California” people! It was great.
And then I got to New Hampshire.