Travel Buddies

I was at my parents' house for dinner tonight before heading to the airport tomorrow morning, and we ordered takeout. My grandma got fish and chips, and they gave her five huge pieces of battered fish, leaving tons of leftovers that will inevitably go bad in an empty house.

To which my mother said, "Fish and houseguests. Things that only last three days."

I'm obviously no stranger to long-haul travel, countless airplanes, airport lounges, and long layovers spent sitting on airport carpet. And one thing I've learned that has the potential to fall under Lori Gibson's three-day rule, whether you're staying in five-star luxury hotels or 100-bed hostel rooms, is a travel buddy.

When I graduated from college, I was 22, and my friends were lining up at the door to go on a trip with me. Some were still in college, some were working odd jobs to make ends meet, and others were just young enough that they didn't care about PTO rules and regulations.

But as I've gotten older, adventures turned into trips, trips turned into campaigns, and campaigns turned into a full-time job, making a regular travel companion more elusive than Bigfoot himself.

Matter of fact, I feel like I've gone on more solo trips than not. And we all love the idea of a solo trip. Learning about yourself, not worrying about making someone else happy, ordering what you want, and going to bed when you want.

While it can get lonely, it has definitely spoiled me a little bit. Because I'm so used to going alone, I've almost forgotten I'm allowed to invite someone. I don't actually have to be alone.

So when I had the chance to go to Greece relatively last minute for a hotel campaign, I began the long and arduous task of deciding whether or not to take a friend.

I realized I was asking a lot. It was Sunday, and I was asking my friends to get on a plane that upcoming Friday to go to Greece for just a few days. It's a big ask, but this wasn't an easy trip for me to do alone, so I figured I'd ask.

Lo and behold, my friend Megan said, "Fuck it," and bought a ticket.

Now, remember, just because you have fun at work with someone doesn't mean you're automatically going to have a great time traveling together.

I've actually learned this the hard way.

I've traveled with people who wanted to wake up at sunrise and people who considered getting out of bed before noon a personal attack. I've met people who could spend an entire day wandering around a city without a plan and others who needed every bathroom break scheduled into a color-coded itinerary. And if one thing went wrong? Full-blown panic.

I was once trapped in a very small room with a girl who burped uncontrollably, and let me tell you, that was enough to send me back to solo travel for a really long time.

On my very big backpacking trip with my best friend Patrick, we used to joke about how our travel journals were going to be filled with vivid dreams of abandoning each other and never looking back.

You can be best friends, know everything about each other, and still find that three days might be the max.

I'll be honest, though. I'm not innocent in the travel buddy department either.

I'm picky about my pictures. I enjoy getting lost. I've been told I snore (although I went to a sleep clinic, so it's not as bad anymore). I can get in my head, and I have an expiration time. Meaning, when I'm done, I'm DONE. My social battery is officially dead, and I need to recharge. ALONE.

I'm also working, which is often a very overlooked fact. I'm not on vacation. I'm representing my business, but also the company I'm working with, and I take that VERY seriously.

So when I'm asking my friends to take a week off work, drop everything, and fly to Greece, I'm also asking them to put up with my particular ass.

But my favorite travel buddy story is the one that just happened.

I haven't known Megan very long. She's 10 years younger than me, although you wouldn’t know that from talking to her but I did have to explain what “burning a CD” and that was hard. And while we hang out outside of work, you never really know what someone will be like in another country.

Her plane was delayed. She missed her connection. She ended up on a seven-hour ferry ride.

And she showed up with the BIGGEST smile on her face.

She was up at sunrise to take my pictures, FLEW THE DRONE, shared all the food with me, and we always got a bottle of wine.

We had the most incredible time. Even sometimes just sitting in silence.

And she said I didn't really snore, so that was also exciting.

Was I nervous she was going to hate me after this trip? 100%.

Am I secretly trying to shackle her to Brittany in Wanderland so she can come on every campaign trip because of how much fun we had? 1000%.

The point is, you're never going to know if your travel buddy will withstand Lori Gibson's three-day rule until you try. And if they don't, you walk away with a great story and a solid addition to your travel buddy requirement list.

But every once in a while, you find a friend who can turn riding on the top of a double-decker bus in the pouring rain, in 50-degree weather, into some of the best content you've ever made.

And suddenly, three days doesn't seem nearly long enough.

Although I still wouldn't trust the fish.