Up in the Air
Posted: December 20th, 2009 | Filed under: Essays, Pop Culture | 61 Comments »
I wrote the following after seeing the movie “Up in the Air” with George Clooney. I have not seen many great movies the last few years. I hardly remember any at all. I think “Up in the Air” is a great movie. I cannot tell if it was a great movie for me and people like me because of the subject, or if it’s greatness is universal. It doesn’t really matter. The movie sparked a lot of feelings and this rambling essay.
* * *
Travel sucks. Only it doesn’t. And that’s pretty much the everything I can say about it. Before this year is through I will have spent about 100 nights on the road — more than three months. Something about that depresses me beyond words. And something about that thrills me too. Travel is confusing. Life on the road — what it feels like to spend so much time away from home — is hard to put into words.
* * *
I have not seen a great movie in a long time. It seems like I used to see great movies constantly — every few weeks, at least. Good movies were great. Mediocre movies could be great too. Maybe it is because my expectations were different. Maybe it’s because i was different. I could get lost in a movie when I was younger. It didn’t have to be brilliantly acted or snappily written or even plausible … as long as it had something real about it, something that could take me from here to there … I would go. I could go. Maybe that’s a child’s gift. I could disappear. The bright lights when the movie ended were blinding.
* * *
I was in Orlando once — this was a long time ago, almost 20 years ago now, before I had kids, before I was married, years before I had even met my wife. I was in love with someone and I wasn’t — I never was exactly sure about that. It was New Year’s Eve, and I sat in my hotel room, and I looked out the window, and I felt thoroughly alone, a kind of desolate loneliness, the sort of acute melancholy that I imagine sparks love songs, good and bad, and poetry, good and bad, and drunken nights in hotel bars. I never felt that alone before and I never felt that alone since. And the strange part, the part that did not make sense, the part that I still do not quite understand, is this: I kind of liked it.
* * *
I remember Ordinary People leaving me numb in my theater chair. And I remember The Sure Thing doing the same thing in a whole different way. I was enthralled by Rocky, the first one, I remember wanting to sit there and watch it again. I remember feeling hot — sweating — in a cold theater during Do The Right Thing. I remember I saw When Harry Met Sally in a crowded theater in Hollywood, and the Hollywood movie crowd seemed different to me, more involved, more appreciative, more judgmental, like the movie was unfolding live, like the actors were real, and the movie was a play, and the screen was a curtain, and the director was in the crowd and could hear the laughter and applause and awkward silences.
* * *
You learn things when you travel a lot, things that seem important in the moment. You learn how to pack a carry-on, how to grab two buckets at the security, how to put your carry-on into the overhead compartment and slip into your seat in one movement so that you do not hold up the line. You learn to wear slip off shoes (that go directly on the belt), and to have your confirmation numbers easily accessible, and to sleep with your head against the plane wall, and to turn on your phone at touchdown so that you have your messages by the time the plane reaches the gate. You learn miles and points and clubs and programs … not at all for the large perks they provide — the free trip to Hawaii — but for the small conveniences, the early boarding, the negligible upgrades, the free water, the warm welcome, the name on the electronic board, the smaller lines, the spare moments saved. It doesn’t seem like much, and it often isn’t much, but the road is for small victories, tiny triumphs over the indignities, the occasional opportunity to say: “That unexpected layover in Indianapolis when my flight got canceled was not in vain.”
* * *
I loved The Sixth Sense. I did not see it in a theater — I saw it in a hotel room, on a small television screen. I loved it because I did not see it coming. The strange part is that I saw The Sixth Sense months after it had come out, long after its surprise had become a pop culture reference point. I knew there was a surprise, and I was on alert for it, which made me the most weary kind of moviegoer — like the sort of person who goes to a magic show determined only to figure out how the trick works. And I didn’t see the twist coming. The movie got me. That was as big a surprise as the surprise. I felt dazed and frozen, my mind pulling in a dozen different directions. And one thing I remember thinking was that it had been a long time, way too long, since a movie had made me feel that way.
* * *
I beeped when going through the security X-Ray machine a few weeks ago. I suspect that I had traveled for five consecutive years without beeping. I have a system, a foolproof system, where I put my keys here, my wallet there, my phone in that compartment. I wear belts without enough metal to set off the beep. I never carry change, and if I get change from an airport store I will find a way to get rid of it. I live a metal free existence when traveling, and so when I beeped going through security the other week, I remember feeling defeated. The woman at security asked me all the questions she asks regular travelers … do you have any keys on you, anything metal in your pockets, can you remove your belt, like I was some kind of road tourist. It’s hard to explain, but I felt strangely humiliated. The whole thing took only a few seconds, and I went back through the X-Ray and I did not beep this time, and I wanted to shout: “It was YOUR mistake! See?” But there was no such admission. And I thought about it way too much the rest of the day.
* * *
I worked with George Clooney’s father Nick when I was in Cincinnati. We were were both columnists at The Cincinnati Post — Nick on more of a part-time basis. He was very nice to me. I never met him but he would send me notes fairly often, little handwritten letters telling me I was doing a good job or encouraging me when people turned. I once wrote an over-the-top column after the Reds failed to come close to selling out playoff games in 1995, a column about how Cincinnati had died as a great baseball town. I believed that, mostly because I was only 28, and at that age I did not appreciate how much the baseball strike had wrecked the town’s sentiment for baseball. I was the classic outsider lecturing the hometown fans, and I received a lot of angry mail and phone calls, and my friend and Reds’ radio announcer Marty Brennaman, as he promised, “took a piece of my hide on the air.” It’s not a column I’d take back because I believed it wholeheartedly then. But it’s a column that I wouldn’t write now (certainly not that way) because it was stupid. The nicest letter I got during the firestorm was from Nick Clooney. He told me to hang in there and keep writing what I thought and never be afraid to be wrong.
* * *
There are deep breath feelings when you’re on the road. You feel it when you make it through security and your computer is back in the bag and your shoes and coat are back on and your phone is again hooked to your belt. You feel it when you walk into your hotel room, and the bed is made, and the floor is vacuumed and the towels are dry and hung neatly on the rack. You feel it when your status allows you to go into the short line — people glare at you, which no longer bothers you because they weren’t there when you had to stay an extra three days in Birmingham. You feel it when the taxi driver is paid and the blank receipt is in your wallet and you are where you are supposed to be ahead of schedule. You feel it when you are at a good restaurant where the food is excellent and local and the service is sharp but not too sharp and you are aware that you are somewhere. You feel it when you feel certain that you forgot to pack something urgent — a power cord, a notepad, a part of the portable GPS Navigation, a T-shirt and shorts — only to find that you did pack it. These little feats make you feel much more powerful than you have any right to feel. King of the road.
* * *
Up in the Air only played at one movie theater in town, so I saw it in one of those fancy suites where you sit in a recliner, and waitresses walk over to the side of your chair every so often to take your food order, like you are Fred Flintstone at the Drive-In. The chair would rumble when the movie sound got loud. I suppose this was meant to add to the experience. The price of the ticket included $30 worth of food, so we ordered cupcakes, which made no movie sense, and Raisinets, which made perfect sense. I have probably eaten Raisinets a dozen times in my life, and every one of those times was inside a movie theater. Maybe chocolate and raisins were part of my childhood movie magic. The movie began with George Clooney moving swiftly through airport security.
* * *
I begin every trip with the same bland mixture of anticipation and regret. It tears me up to leave my family. And it’s exhilarating to be going somewhere. There’s an energy that I feel on the road. It is artificial energy, perhaps, like the buzz of caffeine. But it’s there, and it doesn’t matter much, at least to me, if the final destination is San Diego or Milwaukee or Miami or Pittsburgh or New Orleans or Washington or St. Louis or Chicago or Boise. Every place has its charms if you are going for a day or two. Every place has its potholes if you’re going for an extended stay. Overseas travel is a bit different, especially if you are in a middle seat. But the same energy overtakes me every time, the energy that says: “Well, you might as well make the best of it.” I worry before every trip, a wordless worry that taunts: This will be the trip where the energy does not come, the trip that leaves you staggered and tired and discouraged. But, the energy always comes. And on the other end, there’s a clean hotel room and a pretty good restaurant reservation and an exciting new story to write. So far, anyway.
* * *
I never looked at my watch while watching Up in the Air. I don’t know when I started looking at my watch during movies. Funny, there were times I would look at my watch in sort of a hopeful way — I was looking to see how much time was left in the movie with the hope that there was still a lot of time left. Often, though, I was counting down the minutes. Either way, it didn’t matter. When you look at your watch during a movie, you know exactly where you are.
But I never looked at my watch during Up in the Air. I never thought about being in a recliner that rumbled. I barely remember paying the check. Up in the Air is about George Clooney who travels around the country, 300 days on the road, firing people. His character had a name, but he did not need one. It was George Clooney doing what he does better than any actor in Hollywood, I think. It was George Clooney playing himself in a parallel universe. I know George Clooney has his own jet, and he does not hang out often in hotel bars in Des Moines, and he does not live in a one-bedroom apartment in Omaha, and he does not have Jason Bateman as his perfect-pitch unreasonable boss. But he could. And if he did, he still would be George Clooney. Maybe that’s not the acting that wins Oscars. Maybe it is. Either way, it is, to me, the most believable acting I know.
* * *
I have a knack for remembering my hotel room number. And I have a knack for forgetting it. If I’m on a three-city trip, for instance, I will remember that I’m staying in Room 1229 in Phoenix. And then, when I get to LA, I will completely forget where I stayed in Phoenix, but I will remember that I’m in room 1884. And when I get to Dallas, I will forget where I stayed in Phoenix or LA, but I will remember that I am staying in room 2832. I do wonder sometimes where those numbers go. I do wonder sometimes if, when I get old, I will be left muttering a series of numbers that will be incomprehensible to everyone but will, in the dark places in my memory, represent a Renaissance in Cleveland, a Townplace Suites in Eden Prairie, a Marriott in Fort Lauderdale and a hotel room near LaGuardia.
* * *
When Up in the Air ended, I wanted to sit there for a while and think about it. Maybe it was because I travel so much. Maybe it seemed well written. Maybe I like George Clooney. Whatever, this was an old feeling — the feeling I used to have about movies when I was a kid. I think the movie was great, truly great, but I’m not sure about that. In my younger, movie-loving days, it did not matter if the movie was “good” or “bad” or “OK” or any of the places in between. All that mattered was the feeling when it was over.
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Joe, you’re a good writer. Anyone ever told ya’ that before?
Really well done. To think its just a blog but probably touches everyone that reads it. First time reading anything by you and it is great. Hell i havent gone to a movie theater in a few years but this makes me want to. We probably dont have the sweet rumble chairs though…
Great piece Joe.
I’m heading to the airport in a few hours and this really captures my feelings. Maybe it’s the blizzard in NYC, maybe it’s my pregnant wife, maybe it’s the fact that the slate of work on this trip is a little less interesting than the last few trips.
Or maybe it’s just the fact I’ve spent half of the last 5 weeks on the road.
But for whatever reason, I have that, “ugh, I’m not in the mood to leave my warm place on a Sunday afternoon, go through security, and fly trans-continental in coach” feeling.
Yet, as you noted, I also have that “hey, I’m about to leave home and head to the airport, and get on a jet plane, and tonight I’ll be having a pre-bedtime drink in a swank hotel bar in LA” buzz.
(Plus, I have that eternal hope that I’ll get the upgrade to business class which turns the whole journey from a hassle to a sweet ole’ time.)
Anyway, I’d say it’s hard to describe the paradoxes, but you already described them.
Great work.
This was already by far the most anticipated movie of the year for me, and this post just amplifies my excitement.
Some of the things you’re saying about travel ring true to me. Supposedly I live in one of the most exciting cities on Earth, and yet whenever it’s time to travel and everyone else is bitching about spending two nights in Atlanta or Baltimore or wherever I am always excited. Always.
And I’ve read that one of the themes of the movie is a general lack of accountability in corporate America, which is a rich topic. Can’t wait to see this.
Oh my god, and literally as I type this my wife just told me she has a screener of it on DVD. This snowy day just got a lot better!
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This post was mentioned on Twitter by JPosnanski: My rambling, Sunday morning essay on “Up in the Air.” http://bit.ly/7bk9Kh...
Maybe I like George Clooney, too. Aside from his day job, I hold him in high regard for being the subject of my favorite part of Rick Sutcliffe’s drunken guest appearance during a San Diego Padres telecast in 2006.
Rick Sutcliffe: “George Clooney. You been readin’ about all that? You been seein’ that?”
Matt Vasgersian: “George Clooney?”
Sutcliffe: “Yeah. He’s up there with um… He’s up there with the Congress. He’s trying to get everybody to go over there… and solve that thing.”
Vasgersian’s tone in his reaction is absolutely priceless. This is a link to a radio show that has the audio of Sutcliffe’s appearance.
http://images.gaslampball.com/images/admin/sutcliffe.mp3
By the way, I’m 100% with you about seeing movies in LA. It’s just a different experience than anywhere else.
The first movie I ever saw in LA was The Fugitive and at the end of one of the extended action sequences the crowd broke out in applause, like it was a concert or something. Blew me away.
It was cool. I know people like to dog LA but I love it and going to the movies there is always a blast.
I get that kind of feeling when I take a Sunday nap. The things I dream are always spectacular and idealistic and frightful…things that feel surreal as if “this is a dream no?” Colors and personalities and impressions that never get enough time to develop during the weeks and months I go without a Sunday nap. Whatever it is (or was, considering I just woke up) I wish I could get back to sleep so I could live it again…
I spent 14 years on the road, from East Coast to West, and from Canada to the Southwestern boarder…and a bit of Europe, to boot. You captured my feelings exactly.
Thank you Joe, you’re such a damn good writer. I liked this post about the movie more than the movie, which I just saw yesterday. Don’t get me wrong, I thought it was a really good movie, but just not great. You know how I know it was good and not great? I looked at my watch, trying to figure out how much time was left, but not because I was waiting for it to be over, but because I hoped there was still enough time left for something to happen.
This post also got me thinking about how your age affects your reactions. I’m 29, and one of the reasons I didn’t adore this movie, like most critics have, is because I thought it was a bit condescending towards young people (I still qualify right? No? Oh, this is awkward). I thought it was a bit heavy on the “you’ll understand when you’re older” sentiment. However, if I were 15 years older, would it affect me differently? Maybe.
Anyway, thanks again Joe. Baseball and movies are two of my favorite things. Go see this movie, one of the better entries, into a somewhat down movie year.
I liked “Up in the Air” too, and am also not sure if it was good or great.
(SPOLIER-ISH) The ending wasn’t as easy as Clooney just getting the girl, but it wasn’t like the movie didn’t give into the common idea that Clooney’s rootless life was a bad thing either. A no-doubt great movie would have presented a new scenerio, which in retrospect was just as true. Because this movie artfully confirmed the standard wisdom, does that make it less than great?
Fantastic post, Joe. I travel a good deal as well, and I’m showing this to my family – it captures my feelings very well. Thanks.
I totally get the paradox of both the depression and thrill of traveling alone. I’m at an age where most of my friends are married with young children, so – being single – if I don’t travel alone, I don’t travel. And I want to travel.
Going all over the world, there are sights you sometimes wish you had someone to experience it with – that sense of “wow – can you *believe* that?!” The flip side, and one of the things I love about traveling alone, however, is that there is never any compromise. I can choose a circuitous route around Asia if I want, and I can double back, and I can stop here to eat and there to take a picture – and I never have to clear it with anyone else. You are forced to meet people when you travel (especially by yourself), and I have met far too many people who began a trip as a couple, or as good friends (or both), and are neither by the end of the trip.
At the end of the day, there is so much wonder to see in the world that – by a large margin – the indignities of travel are far outweighed by the thrills.
Great post, as always, Joe.
I’m getting ready to head to MCI in a couple hours to go to Little Rock & spend my 250th night on the road this year, so I had my wife read your post because I think you captured a lot of what the experience is like.
Sorry to have missed you at Zona Rosa… give us more notice next time and I’ll show up and buy your book (even though I hate baseball).
Wow. This essay proves that people are different. I hate to travel. I now avoid it completely. The trailer for this movie left me cold and I had to go to the site to get an idea of the plot.
But your essay was awesome. And helped me understand why anyone would agree to travel more than once a year (at most).
It takes all kinds. Just as I’m glad there are people who can be emergency room docs and firefighters, I guess we need Travelers too!
Thanks.
No mention of the “carbon footprint” being built up by all this travelling, I see.
No twinge of conscience there?
Well good for you. It’s all baloney.
Keep travelling and keep writing.
Joe – Great post! You really are a great writer. Started reading you when I lived in KC from 95-02. You do a great job of bringing humanity to your stories.
Oh and with all that travel…be sure to give yourself some time to just stop once in awhile.
Joe, you’re a great yadda yadda yeah we get the idea.
This, though… this is probably the most well-crafted piece I’ve ever read from you. Well weaved.
As for travel… let’s just say that with one exception, every year of my life I’ve driven at least ten times as many miles as I’ve flown. The one exception was 1993, when my job entailed hitting a trade show (or two!) every weekend. And boy, did I hate that.
You know, Poz, you’re one of the few writers whose posts make me want to be a writer — and I’m a (insert your preferred profanity here) copy editor. A cynical one at that. You know how we copy editors like to pick apart any written material we come across. But I’ll let your (very few) typographical transgressions slide, because you pull me through a piece like few other writers can.
Or maybe it’s George Clooney.
(If you ever meet him, bring him home to KC and drop by the Star, with him, OK?)
Circle me, WKRP.
Joe, I enjoyed your rambling mediation on travel and Up in the Air. It resonates with how I feel about business travel by air. Although I do not travel as much as you, I also approach travel with both a sense of trepidation and excitement. I dread the long lines when checking in and at airport security, and the potential embarrassment of triggering the metal detector even though I’ve removed all my keys, coins and other external metal. But I also enjoy the occasional break from routine by viewing the scenery below from the air and traveling to a different city. I am looking forward to seeing Up in the Air since it was primarily filmed in the St. Louis area where I have lived for twenty-nine years. However, I am somewhat anxious about opening this Christmas gift, since I’ve researched the film for Wikipedia article and probably have inflated expectation about the film.
This is just what I’m talking about. Don’t you dare let a podcast take you away from this sort of writing, Joe Posnanski.
@ #6 Billsee –
Thank you for that. Made my day.
Joe,
As a frequent traveler, have you ever referred to (or heard anyone else refer to) the exit in the airport terminal where people disembark from their respective planes as the “gatehouse”?
Thanks
I can’t say I travel all that much, by plane anyway. Maybe a handful of times a year. But even I’m embarrassed when the detector beeps. I think I’m a little OC about doing the security thing right, 1) because I want to make the job easier for the security people and 2) because it’s basically common sense getting through security. It’s not complicated, so I really don’t want to end up being “that guy”.
Anyway, love the post. I may have to see Up in the Air after all.
Regarding your paragraph about love/loneliness, I’m assuming you were in your early 20’s or so when that occurred. That’s a tough age for guys, I’m sure it is for women as well, but, especially for guys. Unless your family is wealthy you have probably have little or no money, the jobs available to you aren’t very good, and real success in anything seems a million miles away.
Benjamin Franklin said it best, your job as a young man is to convert the one asset you have, time, into a career, money, a family.
When I meet guys that age I feel both sorry and envious of them at the same time.
Wow, as someone who travels for a living, this basically is something I would write…if I could actually write. Well done as always Joe!
When I was in my 20s, I spent 4 years of my life traveling literally every week of the year on a pretty generous expense account. I was very spoiled, and I remember the thrill of the hotels, the food, the new city…I also remember the older people that I worked with being pretty amused by my ‘kid in the candy store’ enthusiasm with each trip. I’m now the age that my older colleagues were during those days, and even though travel has changed so much since 9/11, I still possess a healthy (albeit altered) degree of that travel enthusiasm. This post reminded me of a lot of those memories.
And it is true, there is no better place in the world to see a movie than in Hollywood – preferably the Arclight.
Well said, Mark Kitchin, I think that’s exactly right – or at least that’s how I remember it.
And, much like Poz, I embrace the misery of my 20s, because at least then I was feeling something intensely, which is so rare these days.
Which leads me to Dominic: I hate to say it, but the world is a completely different place at 43 than it is at 29, trust me on that. And I know me saying that annoys the hell out of you because it annoyed the hell out of me to hear it when I was 22, 25, 29, but that doesn’t make it any less true.
“I’ve never been so alone… and I’ve never been so alive.” – Third Eye Blind
Not sure if anyone’s a fan, but it’s one of my favorite song lyrics (from “Motorcycle Drive-By). I think it sums up what you were saying in paragraph 4.
Watched the movie tonight.
I thought it expanded on the most interesting themes of Lost In Translation by adding some thought-provoking elements on corporatism and the modern economy.
Also thought it was beautifully shot and edited; an accomplishment for a movie set largely in airports and non-descript offices and hotels.
If you were one of the people who was frustrated by the lack of story in Lost In Translation, I can see where you might think this movie doesn’t live up to its now considerable hype.
For me it’s the richest, most interesting movie I’ve seen in a couple years. I can’t wait to watch it again.
For a unique travel experience, try going though the metal detector wearing a hernia belt. Sometimes it sets ‘em off, sometimes not. But when it does, you gotta go through the whole private room strip-search extravaganza. Sometimes I try to make a few jokes, but those guys don’t like to laugh. I think it’s in their job description.
I started that blog post on the best airport food if you’re interested: http://bit.ly/8V963J
Really great piece of writing Joe. Thanks for capturing the whole travel up/down so well.
Beautiful post.
I know that same energy and that same feeling walking out of a movie.
No, it’s not just you, movies these days are just that bad.
Beautiful writing, Joe. I think I identified with every single feeling you wrote about here. I think your writing enables us to exist inside a parallel universe, which is the necessary criterion for great writing. Thank you.
Good work, Joe. Thanks for sharing.
Joe, no time to read your post. Waiting for connecting flight. Can you boil it down to a single tweet?
Great post. I did not look at my watch while reading it, nor did I scroll to the bottom of the screen to see how much of the article remained. And when I got to the end, I sat staring at the screen for a minute wishing there were more.
Next time you are in MN for a long while, do a book signing! I’d love to meet you.*
*ugh, that sounded lame and fanboyish for a 45 year old
That sums up my travel feelings, even though I only travel 2-4 times a year or so. I hate leaving the family. I hate that I won’t have the comforts of the familiar. I wonder if I’ll be “on” for the meetings and dinners and everything else about travelling for work. And yet, I’m thrilled and excited and filled with a kind of wonder at what new thing will happen on this trip.
I’ll have to see this movie….
–”I never felt that alone before and I never felt that alone since. And the strange part, the part that did not make sense, the part that I still do not quite understand, is this: I kind of liked it”
My first year in the USAF in 1988 in Japan, New year’s Eve, sitting alone at work smoking as the clock struck 1989 and I can hear the muffled yells and cheers in other parts of the building. That is how I felt and that is when I knew I was truly on my own. Scared because I did not know if I could do it, and excited because I finally had a singular purpose in life. That was the day I knew what it felt like to be a man.
Powerful stuff Joe and I had not thought about this for a long time, thanks.
Great stuff as always, Joe. If this post had a soundtrack it would have to include Hoodoo Gurus’ ‘1000 Miles Away’
Haven’t seen it yet, but the director, Jason Reitman, is phenominal.
He directed Thank You For Smoking (one of my favorite books), and co-wrote the adapted screenplay. He also did Juno, and his dad is Ivan Reitman, the producer and director of Ghostbusters.
Not too shabby…boy’s got Oscars in his eyes…
(I just read what I wrote and no, I’m not gay, and as far as I know I’m not crazy. I gotta say/type – damnation! Joe’s ramblings evoke feelings and memories that I’ve forgotten and end up with my fingers blithering stream-of-conscious semi-coherent empathetic comments on his page.)
Joe, I completely know that feeling of loneliness and that accompanying feeling of strange semi-conscious subtle pleasure. For myself, I’ve experienced it and I feel like it’s easier to happen to a person when they are younger or when life is less strenuous. A time when a bored brain isn’t inundated and hamstrung with as much or any worry and can subconsciously put you in a position to feel more than you are.
Loneliness can be a victimless pain, especially if it’s coupled with a sense of longing. It’s not like losing a leg to frost bite or a pet being run over by an a fire truck. Often we have exacted loneliness on ourselves and if so can be easily remedied and deep down we know this. I don’t know Joe, but odds are he had the family, the friends, the personality to break that feeling of alone-ness relatively easily, so while it hurts, no one is actually suffering and the hurt can be remedied with companionship, friends, or love and the anticipation of that remedy coupled with the vitality of the pain is exhilarating.
The beginning of a relationship is tremendous for many reasons. Besides all of the new sex, the mundanities of your day are spent with this new person and are now exciting. Each person’s old trite thoughts, conversations, memories are now new to the other and thus each person finds an invigorated interest in their own lives. New relationships are the stuff! What makes them even better is a dogged pursuit filled with longing and loneliness.
Before my girl friend of six years (we might as well be married) and I got together I recognized the fact that it could happen, but instead of making a strong play for her I began this stupid charade that turned into a three week passive-aggresive friendly courtship. When I look back on it, it’s almost as if I was attempting to be her “best buddy”. Like, subconsciously I wanted to be close to her but I wanted to make it difficult on myself, prolong the pursuit, and cultivate the anticipation.
If I had to do it over there’s no way it would be the same. #1 – I would need to have sex as soon as possible. #2 – I’d rather be watching the NFL Network or DVRed Judge Judy then dicking around with needless uncertainty. “I like you. Do you like me?” #3 – I have too much other shit to worry about.
The sad part of it is, I’d miss that 3-week dance of bullshit. It was difficult, gut-wrenching, painful, and awesome. I should break up with her and try and get back together 3 months later.
In many cases, and in my case, it’s a self-made pain of a hopeless romantic looking to feel something. While it is a pain, it is also a feeling and a strong one at that. And that feeling is a source of vitality and maybe even virility. Of the handful of times in my life when I felt extreme motivation, in at least a few a profound sense of alone-ness facilitated the feeling. I don’t know if I subconsciously put myself in a situation to feel alone in order to motivate myself or what, but I know that it hurt, I felt alive, and ultimately, I ended up better off.
Maybe I’m just nuts and my brain was bored and simply created a scenario where I could feel something – anything significant, but I can speak from experience that loneliness can be f—in’ sweet. (Is that what Edgar Allen Poe means when he says, “Leave my loneliness unbroken…”?) In some ways I miss those periods of alone-ness. They were strange and vital and confusing and I don’t feel anything close to that now. Life, at least the life I am now living, has made all the jagged edges of my existence straight and removed much of the excitement. Hell, besides a near death feeling/experience, even something”exciting” wouldn’t be exciting any more. Maybe my subconscious will manifest circumstances where I will feel a longing and alone-ness in order to feel alive again. Then again, studying for the CPA isn’t exactly conducive to a life on the edge.
(I just read what I wrote and no, I’m not gay, and as far as I know I’m not crazy. I gotta say/type – damnation! Joe’s ramblings evoke feelings and memories that I’ve forgotten and end up with my fingers blithering stream-of-conscious semi-coherent empathetic comments on his page.)
Joe, I completely know that feeling of loneliness and that accompanying feeling of strange semi-conscious subtle pleasure. For myself, I’ve experienced it and I feel like it’s easier to happen to a person when they are younger or when life is less strenuous. A time when a bored brain isn’t inundated and hamstrung with as much or any worry and can subconsciously put you in a position to feel more than you are.
Loneliness can be a victimless pain, especially if it’s coupled with a sense of longing. It’s not like losing a leg to frost bite or a pet being run over by an a fire truck. Often we have exacted loneliness on ourselves and if so can be easily remedied and deep down we know this. I don’t know Joe, but odds are he had the family, the friends, the personality to break that feeling of alone-ness relatively easily, so while it hurts, no one is actually suffering and the hurt can be remedied with companionship, friends, or love and the anticipation of that remedy coupled with the vitality of the pain is exhilarating.
The beginning of a relationship is tremendous for many reasons. Besides all of the new sex, the mundanities of your day are spent with this new person and are now exciting. Each person’s old trite thoughts, conversations, memories are now new to the other and thus each person finds an invigorated interest in their own lives. New relationships are the stuff! What makes them even better is a dogged pursuit filled with longing and loneliness.
Before my girl friend of six years (we might as well be married) and I got together I recognized the fact that it could happen, but instead of making a strong play for her I began this stupid charade that turned into a three week passive-aggresive friendly courtship. When I look back on it, it’s almost as if I was attempting to be her “best buddy”. Like, subconsciously I wanted to be close to her but I wanted to make it difficult on myself, prolong the pursuit, and cultivate the anticipation.
If I had to do it over there’s no way it would be the same. #1 – I would need to have sex as soon as possible. #2 – I’d rather be watching the NFL Network or DVRed Judge Judy then dicking around with needless uncertainty. “I like you. Do you like me?” #3 – I have too much other shit to worry about.
The sad part of it is, I’d miss that 3-week dance of bullshit. It was difficult, gut-wrenching, painful, and awesome. I should break up with her because she doesn’t load a dish washer efficiently (maybe even shit in her closet a la Najeh Davenport) and try and get back together 3-6 months later.
In many cases, and in my case, it’s a self-made pain of a hopeless romantic looking to feel something. While it is a pain, it is also a feeling and a strong one at that. And that feeling is a source of vitality and maybe even virility. Of the handful of times in my life when I felt extreme motivation, in at least a few a profound sense of alone-ness facilitated the feeling. I don’t know if I subconsciously put myself in a situation to feel alone in order to motivate myself or what, but I know that it hurt, I felt alive, and ultimately, I ended up better off.
Maybe I’m just nuts and my brain was bored and simply created a scenario where I could feel something – anything significant, but I can speak from experience that loneliness can be f—in’ sweet. (Is that what Edgar Allen Poe means when he says, “Leave my loneliness unbroken…”?) In some ways I miss those periods of alone-ness. They were strange and vital and confusing and I don’t feel anything close to that now. Life, at least the life I am now living, has made all the jagged edges of my existence straight and removed much of the excitement. Hell, besides a near death feeling/experience, even something”exciting” wouldn’t be exciting any more. Maybe my subconscious will manifest circumstances where I will feel a longing and alone-ness in order to feel alive again. Then again, studying for the CPA isn’t exactly conducive to a life on the edge.
I hope I have the ability to express my thoughts like this some day. Very cool.
seriously great stuff. I used to travel a lot — not quite as much as you, but regularly enough that everything you said struck a chord. and my melancholy but weirdly happy new years when I was 23 was in Reno. and if you ever really do get to Boise, you need to eat breakfast (or lunch, but eat breakfast at lunchtime) at Goldy’s, downtown.
Joe, if you wrote the minutes to my small town city council meetings I would read them.
So many thoughts and reactions:
-As others have mentioned, this post should be required reading for spouses or children of frequent travelers.
-Business travel sucks because 1) we feel guilty about leaving our families behind, and 2) the airlines are a mess. If I were single and without child, I’d still be travelling.
-I’m convinced metal detectors have a dimmer switch type dial that control how sensative they are. A belt that is fine at O’Hare should not cause a beep in Omaha.
-The key to enjoying business travel is to be able to enjoy eating in restaurants alone.
-On average, I see about 2 movies a year. You’d better believe “Up In The Air” is now on that list. I hope Joe is getting a royalty for referrals.
-There should be separate lines, airlines, or even airports for tourists.
This post is one of the best things I’ve read in quite some time. Seriously – just wonderful.
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The line about mumbling unrelated hotel room numbers made me wonder if Joe just solved the mystery of The Numbers on “Lost”.
They’re 1- and 2-digit numbers, of course, but Hurley seems more like a motel kind of guy anyway.
If the movie is as good as this essay, it will be the best movie I’ve seen all year.
Up in the Air is good because I say its good. I’m Kenny ****** Powers!
You really shouldn’t wear your phone on your belt Joe. That’s what pockets are for.
A very well-written thought, Joe. Thank you.
Joe,
Thanks for another pitch perfect essay. I travel only about once every month, but I can relate to so much of what you wrote about traveling.
My most lonely moment ever: My birthday this year. We live in Seattle and my wife was in Indiana, helping her mother care for her dying father (he would die two days later). She had been gone for 6 weeks, I had seen her once during that time, a stop-over on a business trip. We had missed Valentine’s day, our wedding anniversary, and now my birthday. She was so (rightfully) preoccupied my birthday did not even register.
I got up that morning, fed the cat, made breakfast, and sat. After a few hours of just sitting, contemplating what all men of a certain age contemplate on their birthdays, I drove down into the city, and bought myself a birthday cupcake from Trophy. I even sprung for the 25 cent Happy Birthday toothpick flag. I drove to the park and completed our once a month Sunday ritual of eating our cupcakes in the park. Alone.
There is loneliness and then there is transcendent loneliness. The kind of feeling you can get anywhere, anytime. I was in a park with dozens of people walking around, but they might as well been the trees for all they meant to me, or I meant to them. I could have easily been in a hotel bar with an arm, seemingly attached to nothing, sliding me a glass of the Balvenie. I could have been in my favorite seat at Wrigley with 39,000 noises coming from the seats.
I was in a park in Seattle, and had not seen my wife of 18 years for weeks and I was alone in my car eating a cupcake and I hated this moment more than anything, which made me love it as much as anything.
Outside the Box #47 — As someone who lives in Manhattan, and works in Times Square (aka Disney’s NewYorkCityLand), I would vote for a separate state — no, separate country — for tourists.
Look, I know NYC is a big deal. I know we have lots of tall buildings. I know we have all sorts of things you don’t have in Dubuque or wherever, from the (semi-) Naked Cowboy to the Statue of Liberty. I appreciate that, really, I do — my family (parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, etc.) are all from Fargo, ND (which, BTW, is not anywhere near as glamourous as the eponymous movie would suggest).
But, please — you are in MANHATTAN, the one in New York City, not the one in Kansas (no offense, Joe). There are literally millions of people who live here, and even more millions who work here. Could you puh-leeze find some place to do your gawking that doesn’t require your blocking the sidewalk, street, subway entrance, entrance to a building, etc.? We are not extras in a movie being put on just for you. We have someplace to be — and soon, usually.
Sorry for the screed. It’s a pet peeve, and I just got back from trying to Xmas shop in the Times Square Toys-R-Us (I know, not a good idea, but like I said, I work here) where it took at least two minutes just to walk in the front door. There appeared to be more tourists taking pictures inside the store than people actually shopping.
Oh, how I miss the days when Times Square used to be known as “seedy” and the tourists were afraid to stand around at all lest they be mugged or killed.
Perfect Article.
I’ve been looking forward to seeing “Up in the Air” since I saw the preview months ago.
People who travel are a different breed.
Travelers share a bond that you can’t explain to those who don’t travel.
People who enjoy travel, no matter what type of travel and what happens during that trip, can be happy in any situation or at least find the good in whatever comes. Even if things go horribly wrong, its still great because you’re traveling and having an experience you will always remember. Every trip, every place you go, every person you meet changes you in some little way
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[...] reading about it on Joe Posnanski’s blog. And after a (hi a!) commented on one of my posts a few back, saying that my post reminded her of [...]
I’m glad someone mentioned Lost in Translation. That’s what Up in the Air is, part Lost in Translation, part sideways, part X and part Y (where I don’t really know what X and Y stand for). It’s subtle, but it gets under your skin . . . in a good way. It stayed with me a long time after I saw it, which is why I’m in here, today, backfiting it all.
Thanks to everyone who commented here, and Joe for the wonderful meandering essay.
Joe:
Great write up. I saw the movie tonight and it was a very powerful statement for me.
Travel – not just that George’s character was grounded but the fact of the shattered lifes that being fired or laided off bring along to the PERSON.
I traveled 30 weeks a year for almost 8 years for a company and not only was I grounded but unemployed. This for me was a very deep and powerful movie as the content was what had happened to me and I am still unemployeed and missing my entire life or what life! Not to mention loseing everything I worked for but I worked in safety and making the world safered and better for all. That’s a joke in our world as no body cares about anyone else but themselfs!
Broken life and means of support.
This is what American companies are all about. They replace experience for youth without any experience. Where are the American human values – zero. Captial greed.
Thank you.