Here I am, on one of the most touristy flights that you could ever dream of, the great JetBlue from JFK to Cancun, leaving the big apple on a rainy and gray Saturday morning with destination the sunny shores of Yucatan, Mexico. It's supposed to be Spring here I guess, but the clouds are still hiding a shy sun and the rain makes it feel more like a day in autumn, less the red and brown leaves.
What am I doing here again? Oh yes, I am on my way back to one of the most important places in my life: Tulum. It was 1999 when I visited Tulum for the first time, and I instantly fell in love with it; its magic ruins dominating the ocean from the heights of a rocky cliff are simply breathtaking. Since then I have always considered it the most fascinating and suggestive place on earth. I am now going back, hoping to live again that magic experience, in the effort to get back in touch with the world, mother nature, the gods and more than anything myself. I think I should be able to do that, finally away from the busy routine and the deafening noise of the big city. As they say: "no pain no gain", hence to get there I have to deal with a few annoying traffic jams on the highway, tough security checks at the airport, but especially, long waiting lines with boring people, their weird outfits and their loud conversations about nightlife in Cancun. I proudly manage to survive to all this and finally get to silently sink on my airplane seat and start counting the hours that still divide me from my destination. Next to me is sitting a high-school girl, she is loudly complaining that she can't figure out how to turn on her seat's TV screen. While so visibly frustrated by the unfriendly technology, she is also texting her boyfriend on her mobile, and chatting with a friend sitting next to her. I can't quite understand their conversation but I would like to let both of them know that I don't care what movie is playing, just as I don't care about her headset, which apparently she had thrown in her bag but she can't find anymore. Luckily enough, right when I am just about to say something, a tall and blond flight attendant informs us that starting next June they will "encourage" every passenger to bring their own headphones on board. Apparently, she says looking at me with an innocent and coquettish smile on her face, they do not recycle headphones and this turns out to be quite an expensive waste for the company. Well duh....couldn't they think about this before? Clearly they couldn't, and I guess this is why companies hire business consultants like me to tell them what sounds obvious to us but not to them. Nonetheless I am already quite outraged by the idea of such a waste of headphones and money, so much that her smile doesn't seem as attractive as it was ten seconds earlier and I turn eyes away from her.
My mind goes back to my two neighbours and their conversations before being distracted again by a high voice with a thick Long Island accent: it is the lady two rows ahead of me. She has been under my radar since the check-in line, I could not stop staring at her superb dark-brown fur vest. She is now loudly complaining to her friend: "I'm wahm, are they ever gonna tuhn on the aih condition"? While saying this, she takes off her white sneakers to put on a pair of more comfortable, and fashionable, flip-flops matching her blondish thin hair.
I am still observing the lady's flip-flops and bright red toenails when I realize, with a peaceful sense of satisfaction, that the entire plane is silent; everyone is now attentively following the safety instructions. The crew is kindly informing us that, in case of an emergency landing on water, we would just be fine with our oxygen masks and orange inflatable vests, as long as we can locate the emergency exit closest to us…. thankfully the lady two rows ahead of me is wearing flip-flops and not high heels, that would have been a real problem if we were to land on water, I think.
All of a sudden thousands of questions pop randomly in my mind. Why do we always need to be reassured? Why do we always need to feel safe? Why do people travel in their white moccasins and camouflage pants, to the other end of the globe, to feel as comfortable as they are at home, but simply with a drink on the poolside more? I may be completely wrong, or just too philosophical, but shouldn't traveling be the search for something new and different? Shouldn't we travel to discover new places, new cultures and old traditions we didn't know before? I have always thought that traveling is a great way we have to push ourselves beyond the comfort of our lives, to walk past our couches and get to know the others, and eventually ourselves, better. I may be wrong. The doctor on my neighbor's TV screen warns us to relax: "stress affects your health" he claims in his comforting voice. Luckily the air condition is on now, and the lady on flip-flops sitting two rows ahead can relax too.
So, I still haven't answered all of my questions but one is especially bothering me: Why are all these people on "my" flight? I wonder who told all these people that traveling is good and who convinced them that they should go, with their white moccasins, and build golf courses on pristine tropical islands. Unfortunately I can't find an easy answer and, even if I had one, it probably wouldn't help me feel any better either.
The metallic sound of the engines becomes increasingly stronger and louder in my ears. We are ready to take off and, as I am dreaming about white sand and warm waters, the dark shore of Long Island quickly becomes smaller and smaller on my window, and suddenly turns into a thin blue line thousands of feet away.
I am traveling.
