Whenever I find myself on an airplane about to take off for a long-haul flight...there'll be someone in the row in front of me whipping out their laptop and clicking away through what looks like a very serious, climate-change-solving Excel spreadsheet and a rather scarily full email inbox. I look at them and think yeah, go you, you Type-A demon-hero-unicorn, power on...I'll join you in a minute. But then of course I never do.
And its not that I don't have the tools. The me that packs my carry-on is super ambitious and prolific - she'll take a laptop, an iPad, a stylus, a sketchbook, various markers, pens and pencils, books to read, magazines to flick through, at least one Moleskine for genius epiphanies, and glasses of course, to fit the part. The me, however, that then lugs that shit around for two hours and finally sits down on the plane...really just wants to drink two dinky bottles of crappy red wine, watch eight movies, and reapply eye drops like an addict. And somehow, despite decades of long-haul travel, these two personalities have never quite managed to sit down and reconcile their differences. So yeah, let's just say I'm not quite living my best life on planes. (Although I suppose that depends on one's definition of this wonderful millennial term).
The bigger problem is, that when I get there...because I've been drinking crap wine for what seems like an eternity, all I really want is a really big glass, of really good wine. And a great meal. And then what basically ends up happening is I have about 82 of those and suddenly three weeks have gone by and I'm back on the plane headed home...reaching for the eye drops again and realizing the only time I opened my laptop was to check the weather in New York. Ok, I exaggerate a little. I worked. I had lunch with my clients, I visited my suppliers, I ordered some envelopes and inks and things, I went to museums and even edited photos to post on Instagram! I totally worked!Read More