Flying around the world for meetings and conferences might sound glamorous, but there are weeks – like this one – when I’m very glad I’m not a FF like DD.
I dropped him at the airport on Sunday night for a three-day business trip to London.
Can you imagine anything worse than spending more than 24 hours on a plane to get there and another 24 hours on a plane to get back – in the same week – for the sake some meetings?
Double shudder. I can’t. Actually, I have a very vivid imagination, so I probably can. But I really, really hate long-haul flights so they’d come pretty close to the top of the list.
Not even the promise of bottomless French champagne being served on the flight would ease my pain. Well, it might a bit, but not enough.
Look at the arty pic DD sent me of his Lanson at sunset …
He also got 15 minutes of free wi-fi mid-flight, so I got the biggest surprise when a couple of messages popped up on my iphone yesterday morning. Very exciting! I wasn’t expecting to hear from him until he landed in Doha around 1-2pm.
Someone really needs to invent virtual reality meeting rooms. Imagine the hassle and expense it would save if you could just pop on a pair of goggles and sit your avatar down at the table?
Poor, tired DD.
Meanwhile I’m exhausted by just being on land. I was almost delirious over the weekend from a week of six-hour sleeps and way too much movement. Work gets really insane around October and November when everyone starts having end-of-year events and promoting their Christmas product lines.
This week I’m off to the Wine Communicator of the Year Awards and a Women in drinks event featuring Shelly Horton, in addition to writing about five stories a day for drinks bulletin and doing all my other corp comms stuff.
Then there’s the mothering – kids have this uncanny ability to lose things or remember they urgently need something at 8am every school morning. I keep telling them 8am is NOT the time to announce they can’t find their bushfire project sheet, that such things should be sorted out the night before, but somehow it just keeps on happening again and again and again.
Mind you, searching the eldest’s room at 9pm last night for black lipstick so the youngest can be a dead frog for Halloween this afternoon wasn’t bulk fun either, though it did mean I found the long-missing Scout compass I thought I was up for $100 to replace.
Still, I’m not flying back and forth to London so I shouldn’t complain … but I’m so good at it … so I will …
Do you hate long-haul flights? Do you want to run down the aisle screaming to the stewards to OPEN THE DOOR AND GET ME OUT, I DON’T CARE HOW MANY THOUSANDS OF FEET IN THE AIR WE ARE!!!!!!?? No? Is that just me?
Song of the day: Nelly Furtado “I’m like a bird”