Business travel: Fun until you actually have to do it

If all goes well, I'll be jetting off to Boston later today for a three-day business trip.

Nice town, Boston. One of my favorites.

Not that it matters much, though, because I'll spend virtually my entire time there at a conference, gathering intelligence and forming key relationships on behalf of my employer.

Which of course is the snag in business travel, isn't it? The concept sounds nice, but it's not like you're going on vacation or anything.

The only business trip I ever took on which I had some true "tourist time" was when I went to China in 2005. That trip was 15 days, but I probably could have accomplished everything I set out to do in 8 to 10.

The extra time was for sightseeing and I took advantage of it. The Great Wall was a highlight, as were the outdoor markets of Shanghai.

But almost every other work-related trip I've ever taken has been business first and...well, business second, too.

Depending on the industry in which you work, a typical business trip looks something like this:

• 6 a.m. - Drive to airport
• 6:30 a.m. - Fail to find a parking spot
• 6:40 a.m. - Continue failing to find a parking spot
• 6:45 a.m. - Create an illegal parking spot and hope no one notices for the next several days while you're gone.
• 6:50 a.m. - Lug carry-on baggage into terminal and proceed to security checkpoint.
• 6:55 a.m. - Begin waiting in line for security check.
• 7:55 a.m. - Near end of security checkpoint wait time.
• 8:55 a.m. - Finish waiting in line for security checkpoint and begin dealing with crack TSA agents manning their posts.
• 9:00 a.m. - Receive dangerous dose of radiation from full-body scanner. Make mental note to find an oncologist.
• 9:05 a.m. - Clear security checkpoint and proceed to gate.
• 9:15 a.m. - Arrive at gate, sit down, begin reading book or newspaper while waiting to be called to board.
• Three days later - Board aircraft after minor mechanical delays and some kind of weather system in a completely different part of the country result in repeated cancellations of your flight.
• Many, many hours later - Arrive at your destination.
• Take cab to hotel. Note interesting sights along the way, because it's the last time you'll be outside for the duration of your stay in this particular city.
• Arrive at hotel, check in, go up to room, unpack.
• Order overpriced room service and hope company accountants don't mind that you just paid $37 for a hamburger.
• Go to sleep.
• Wake up (preferably the next day). If appropriately motivated, proceed to hotel fitness center and run a half hour on a treadmill while watching the Home Shopping Network because the remote is broken and you can't change the channel on the 15-inch TV mounted on the far wall.
• Return to room, shower, dress, and go to hotel restaurant for a plate of $23 scrambled eggs.
• Take cab to place of business, whether it's a convention center, office, or abandoned warehouse (again, depending on your line of work).
• Return to hotel 14 hours later. Repeat last several steps until your airline ticket says it's time to return home.
• Return home.
• Pay airport police to retrieve your car from the impound lot after it was towed for being parked illegally.
• Drive to your house.
• Vow to spouse that you're finished with business travel and refuse to take another trip.
• Go to the office the next day and find out you need to be in Spokane next Thursday.

With a few minor variations (for example, your actual scrambled eggs may be $24), this is a pretty universal rundown of the average business trip. If you see anything glamorous in there, please let me know.

To my wife on our 20th anniversary

Dear Terry,

Twenty years ago today we were married. Can you believe that? I can't even remember what I did yesterday, but I clearly recall June 6, 1992. It was one of the greatest days of my life (and is still the most fun I've ever had at a wedding reception).

After 7,305 days of marriage, there are two things I can say for sure:

(1) You've somehow managed to become even more beautiful.
(2) I haven't.

I know you don't think you're especially pretty these days because you're a mom, and moms as a rule don't have very strong egos. But sometimes I look at you from across the room and my heart does that little skip-a-beat thing it used to do when we were first dating. How is it that you never seem to catch me staring?

I guess our marriage, like anyone else's, has had its share of ups and downs. But for the life of me, as I sit here and try to think of the downs, I'm coming up empty. Lots of ups. Lots and LOTS of ups. But downs? I seriously can't list any.

The only bad part about that is I start to take it all for granted. I assume that's the way it's always going to be, and maybe it will. But you should never take God's blessings for granted. And you, Mrs. Tennant, are definitely a blessing from above.

I appreciate that you've put up with me for so many years. I'm not much at fixing stuff. Nor am I generally a willing yardwork partner. And as hard as I've tried, I haven't been able to earn enough money to make us independently wealthy yet. But on the plus side, I can punctuate a sentence for you and wash your kitchen floor...and I think there's something to be said for both of those things.

Did you know the symbol for your 20th anniversary is China (the dinnerware, not the country)? I didn't. But it reminded me of all the effort I expended trying to convince you that "Frost White" was the dish pattern we should go with: simple, elegant, pure white. But you said no. I think you probably made the right call there.

Anyway, in the midst of all the chaos that comes with keeping a family of seven fed, clothed and generally happy, I thought I should at least take five minutes out of our crazy day to let you know how much I appreciate you. And how much I hope for 20 (or 40...or 60) more great years together with you. We should all be so blessed.

Happy anniversary, honey.

Love,
Scotto