My company is sending me to a conference in Chicago.
On the same dates last year, my company sent me to a different meeting, in Miami. I came home to discover the apartment complex had changed all the doors in my absence. And the locks along with them. I had managed to leave scant hours before they notified us all, so I missed that notice, and it was just a big, horrible, confusing surprise when I got back.
But that seems unlikely to repeat.
So off I will go to Chicago. And while I know that Chicago is a city with much to offer — honestly, no offense to those who live in and work in and genuinely love Chicago — the thing is… it’s a city.
I live near enough to NYC to be able to access “City” as often as I’d like, and I access it well nigh to never. However much it may offer, “City” does not appeal in general.
Plus I have been to Chicago, so the newness factor – always a win – does not apply.
And although I am sure the conference will be good, it will mean long days of being “on” and evenings being “on” or hiding out, and so whenever I thought of this trip, there was a (sigh) attached to it.
As in: I’m going to (sigh) Chicago.
It turns out Chicago is less than an hour in either direction to Wisconsin and Michigan.
There are only 5 states I haven’t visited yet, and do you know what states are among them?
Flight change, car rental, hotel adjustment… minor adventure in the making.
Because you know, I have another adventure coming up in just a couple of months, and a major excursion I’m planning for next year, and a minor one that just got on my radar, and none of that was enough to fully satisfy my wanderlust.
There is seriously something wrong with me.