I am happy to report that I did not get any weird clients today. My hapless co-workers got them all: the smelly old guy who wanted to go to Bucharest and then asked for money to pay the parking meter, the kook who wanted to go to Morocco to buy some Moroccan "whacky tobaccy" and asked if we had any recommendations about the best city for that, the harrassed dude who wanted to know if he could send his girlfriend one way somewhere. I was tremendously busy with a constant stream of changes to itineraries, requests for brochures, helping families decide between the Bahamas and Disney World, and spending hours on the phone with tour vendors trying to sort out bookings and payments. In between calls, though, we spent some time today talking about what places we want to go next.

It's funny how we all have places we love unto death that no one else thinks sounds interesting, and places we dislike (almost always based on having been there) that everyone else thinks is fabulous. The other agents are mad about Hawaii. I'm the only one who thinks South America is a wonderful destination. Some would love to go to India; you couldn't pay me enough to go there. Most of the others think Paris is really romantic. I think it's okay, but it's just a big city with stuck up waiters, whereas the rest of France is much nicer and prettier, and you're more likely to have a pleasant conversation with a stranger. My own favorite big city is Tokyo. Half of us think Tahiti would be like heaven on earth, and the other half have a strong aversion to it. Everyone loves Italy unreservedly.

Myself, I'm still a bit sad about not going to my friends' convention in Britain this May, even though I have zero interest in visiting Leicester. And I'm definitely sad about not going to Rome, even though I'm certain my decision to go to Japan is the right one. It's so hard to choose when there are so many wonderful places to go in this world. I want to go back to Africa and see Namibia and Botswana. I want to sail the Chilean fjords and stand at the end of the world where the Pacific and Atlantic meet off Tierra del Fuego. I want to see Iceland in the summer and experience the long hours of light. Turkey is still very high on my list, as is Thailand. And then, of course, there's all the annual gadding about I do among domestic cities: Seattle, Portland, L.A. now that I have friends there, winter visits to Palm Desert, jaunts to Wisconsin to visit family and friends. I go to the East Coast once a year, Baltimore or New York or Toronto. I would love to see the Canadian Maritimes, Quebec City, Montreal. I keep saying I'm going to get to Cape Canaveral for a launching, and to New England for the autumn color. I travel, and travel, and travel, and there's still so much left to see.

I can't stop being a travel agent. It just wouldn't work. I need to be in a job where traveling is understood as the passion and lifestyle that it is. I wouldn't want to have to explain to anyone ever again why I plan to use all my vacation time to go to a foreign country where I will almost certainly have jet lag, eat weird food, mispronounce the local language, and acquire sore feet. No matter what happens with the airline commissions, I'm going to find a way to stick around. Because it comes down to this: after nearly ten years in the business, I'm never bored with travel. This is exactly where I should be.

Although I would be happy to stop working with every nutball who walks in the door.

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