The day after Memorial Day has meant the same thing to me for 17 years: Trade Show Travel. It's the day we pack up our booth, logo wear, laptops and comfortable shoes and hit the road. Because, as lucrative as this blogging business is, I'm not ready to give up my day job. Making computer-based training for the clinical environment is still what keeps the lights on in our house and this is the week when I get to demonstrate the efficacy of our solutions, over and over and over again. But in the interest of keeping you, my dedicated readers, both informed and engaged, I want to share my travel experience with you.

AT THE GATE

We are at the airport and all systems are go for an ontime departure. According to our gate attendant, there is a well-defined plan for how this whole unloading and loading of the plane will go. I can only assume this strategy has been refined over the years using best practices from the airline industry and that it is important that we, the passengers, become familiar with the strategy, because he has outlined the scheme via the public address system three times in 30 minutes. Here is the plan:

1) As soon as the incoming flight from Atlanta arrives, it will park at the gate.
2) The passengers who are currently on that airplane will disembark.
3) A few minutes will be spent cleaning the plane. I think the amount of time it will take depends on how rowdy the incoming passengers were. It is not clear whether he, the gate attendant, will be the one cleaning the plane, but I think he might be.
4) Once the plane is clean and ready to go, the gate attendant will announce pre-boarding for people who need assistance. I'm thinking if I hear his outline of the big plan one more time I wil be in that group because pretty soon I'm going to lose my mind.

I board the plane in the appropriate group, as outlined on my boarding pass, because I am a rule-follower. Soon it becomes clear that the plan really was a good one. There doesn't seem to be anyone left on the plane from the incoming trip and I decide the agent actually had his shit together when he decided to get everyone off before putting the new people on. You know how you let everyone get off of an elevator before people start to get on? It's like that, and it works much better than if they loaded the plane before the incoming passengers got off. The plane appears clean enough, so I think that part of the plan was successful as well. I mentally applaud the gate attendant as I approach my seat.

THE PRE-FLIGHT BRIEFING

In the event of a water landing, we might have flown too far to the east. Oopsy.

The flight attendant has indicated that we should be attentive while she briefs us on the features of our Regional Jet. I am a rule-follower, so I comply. I am relieved when she explains what I am to do with the straps attached to either side of my seat, as I have been confounded by the functioning of this confusing mechanism that, as it turns out, is meant to hold me down. I chuckle to myself over the irony that my sisters never thought of that. The seat is a multi-functional device that can be used for floatation in the event that we should be forced to make an emergency water landing between Charlottesville, Virginia and Atlanta, Georgia. I'm fairly familiar with the terrain between Charlottesville and Atlanta and I can't remember any large bodies of water in that flight path but, now that I have a seat cushion, I'm not afraid to use it. Finally, our flight attendant advises us that FAA regulations prohibit us from conjugating in the aisles outside of the restroom. (Seriously - even I can't make this shit up). As I wonder about the dangers of such an activity, I become concerned that I will not be allowed to diagram sentences, which had previously been my plan for inflight entertainment. Later, there is a man standing outside the bathroom and I'm sure I hear him muttering, "I am, you are, she is, we are, they are." I'm not sure what to do. Is it my civic responsibility to turn him in for conjugating outside the bathroom? Airplanes have gotten to be scary places of late, so I keep my mouth shut but I'm not proud of it.

THE BULKHEAD

Men love bulkhead seats. Bulkhead seats are the Ferrari, the courtside seats, the cool kids' table of the airplane. They mean more leg room and FIFO - First On, First Off. But, as every woman knows, there is nowhere to put your stuff. The only woman you will ever see in a bulkhead seat is sitting next to her husband who booked the flight. Needless to say, Tony makes our travel arrangements. When we pass 10,000 feet, I gaze longingly at the people behind me as they take out their laptops and get to work or watch their movies or write their blog posts for their adoring audiences. I know that, as soon as the seatbelt light goes off, I will be able to get up and get my laptop too. It's sad for a while but as soon as we land all is forgotten because WE GET OFF FIRST. And that, my friends, is very satisfying.

THE BAGS

16 years ago we used to ship 3 big containers via Fedex Ground for $84 each the week before the BIG SHOW. When we arrived we had to wait for them to be delivered by a union employee of GES Expo, which is the company that rents you a couple of chairs, a table, some carpet and a trash can and it costs more than your Pottery Barn sofa. And you don't even get to keep the stuff. They used to have the unfortunate URL, www.gesexpo.com. I always thought it looked more like "G.E. Sexpo" than "G.E.S. Expo", and I'm guessing they did too because now, all of a sudden, their URL is ges.com. It took long enough. Anyway, in the old days we would arrive and then spend a couple of hours on the very tedious booth setup which never got any easier because we only did it once a year. In recent years we have joined the minimalist movement and have managed to compress the entire show experience into a single, albeit large, duffle bag that my daughter once took to Alaska on a 30-day National Outdoor Leadership School (NOLS) experience during which she only showered once. In 30 days. And she was, like, 19 or 20. I think that is noteworthy. Anyway, when she was done, the duffle had a hole in the bottom caused by her dragging it around, so it is no longer of any use in her millennial world, but it makes a great trade show gig bag. It weighed in at a lean 55 pounds and was transported with us and our other bags at no additional charge. And that is even more satisfying than being the first to get off the plane.

HOME AWAY FROM HOME

The view from my balcony. The sun is always shining at the Gaylord.

This year's conference is in one of the convention garden spots of the U.S.A. - The Gaylord Texan in Grapevine, Texas. Gaylord properties are notable for being enormous glass-enclosed park-like communities, with cobbled paths and quaint signs pointing you towards your next destination, whether it be the sports bar, the cantina, shops, the Spa or the intimate Convention Center. Once you have enjoyed the various Gaylord properties in Dallas, Orlando, Nashville and Washington, D.C. multiple times, as I have, they start to meld into one massive memory of mariachi bands, koi ponds, miniature trains and recycled air. This trip marks my third visit to the Gaylord Texan and is at least the seventh time I have stayed at a Gaylord property. The sun is always shining at the Gaylord. I have a balcony, logowear and comfortable shoes. I am excited.