A traveler

I am a traveler.

A traveler doesn't always travel. A traveler is a state of mind, where a person doesn't feel at home anywhere but home. Maybe not even home feels homely to a traveler.

I am a traveler. Fourteen - hour bus rides don't seem long anymore. Unless stranded for more than two days, I don't feel delayed. Naps on buses and trains and planes are just as comfortable as they are on chairs.

Spending four days of continuous travel on the way back home doesn't bother me anymore (that's me, this summer, coming to the town near you). Changing seven flights on what could have been done in two, sixty five hours for a trip that could have been sixteen for cheaper tickets has ultimately started making sense. The stressful security checks and lines and all the more lines, the need to change terminals in incredibly short period of time, and those uncomfortable seat-neighbors, are now less stressful.

I say this on the occasion of filling out 17 pages of travel documents (with tinny print) and eight pages of related documents. On the occasion of the documents asking me for a total of twenty-two passport-sized photos. On the occasion of being recommended to be vaccinated against every disease known to mankind -- those that pervade from East Asia, to those more powerful in Africa.

I chose this. I chose this life of unnecessary travel, so I may travel often in the future. I can read books just as well on Tongan Tangas as I can on Boston Buses and Cincinnati Cabs. That's all that matters.