Anxiousness and Despair: Words En Route [Travelogue]

Airports are all the same.  Whether your in Spokane or Seoul,  it really makes no difference at all.  Half a day ago I was sitting outside the international drop off site at San Francisco International.  Now I am writing from a marble floor in the Incheon Airport in Seoul, South Korea.  Using an airport as a judgement of a location can create a terrible sense of idealisms.  Red Bull is still expensive, and you can’t smoke anywhere!  You’re going to pay 7 dollars for a sandwich you could make at home for 65 cents.  Getting drunk in an airport is only for the upper middle class and above, as it would cost an entire paycheck to accomplish that feet!

But, alas, a long day of traveling has come and gone.  A quick jump from Spokane down to San Fran, and then the longest damn flight I have ever had the “privilege” in taking part of from San Fran to Seoul.  11 hours in a confined space.  4 movies, 2 dinners, and probably 45 minutes of something maybe resembling sleep.  And all of that time.  All of that time of anxiousness or despair.  I chose despair.  I usually do.  I closed my eyes to sleep and saw the face of my wife and my three kids, and my heart began to sink when I realized that, here I was, abandoning them all once again, and I thought I might cry.  I’m hardly ever anxious upon leaving the country, it’s usually my route back that makes me anxious and irritated at every little set back imaginable.

a little bit of 30 Rock over the Pacific. Just like home!

I anticipated a long flight, and did my best to prepare myself.  But, I would be a liar if I said I didn’t find it to be “that bad”.  If it makes me weak to hate 11 hours of sitting in a small space, then so be it.  I was thankful to have an aisle seat, although it was almost debunked by the other side of me, a Frenchman with a terrible attitude.  I avoided all temptation to simply order as many cocktails as I could before I passed out, and opted for Ginger Ales to even avoid caffeine in hopes that the 2 hours of sleep I had in almost two days would pay itself off.  I guess it wasn’t meant to be.  I could barely doze.

But, I arrived in Korea, made it through immigrations and customs (which by the way, is so more lax that coming into the States, which many of you will probably wet yourself knowing) to find out that I have to wait for a bus, coming in three hours.  I made a few feeble attempts at getting ahold of Melissa via Facebook, and eventually got the bright idea to charge my phone on my computer, which has an astoundingly great battery life.  I made what was probably a ten dollar phone call to my sleepy wife (it may be 5 p.m. here, but I am in the future), told her I missed her like hell already.  For those of you who mock modern technology and our utter and stupefying dependence upon it, try doing what I do, and you will see why it is so special.

But, alas, here I am in a damn Airport again.  I’ve been trying to contemplate how much of my life I have spent in Airports.  Technically, I am in a whole new country, right?  My seventh country!  But, no, this is an airport.  In an hour or so, I will be touring the country/city side via a tour bus, just as I have done across the state of Wisconsin, the country of Kuwaitt, and more.  I guess that will bring me closer to Korea.  But, I should fret not, I have an entire year in this place.  A place I really don’t want to be, but continue to vow to myself to try to make the best of the experience.  Or as my dear friend Chris Eaves would say, “find some happiness”.


I arrived at Osan Air Base.  An hour and half bus ride completely evaporated into time.  I hardly remember a damn thing.  I actually strained to keep my eyes open as we passed the bright lights of Seoul.  But, I could not fight the urge to sleep for at least a while.  I knew I would be back.  Sleep was necessary, ogling was a privilege.  I chose what was necessary.  I moved into a hotel in Songtan, and began the route of finding happiness.  Like a slow dog in the hot rain, I drag on.

About rontrembathiii
write. write. write.

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