The right connections

Assuming you're going to read this post—and I recognize that's a big assumption—are you going to read it all the way through the first time, or stop halfway, go do something else for an hour, then come back and finish it?

Stop talking, it's a rhetorical question.

If you're going to read it, you'll do it nonstop until you get to the end. And why wouldn't you? It's easier, it takes less time and you can get to whatever you're doing afterwards a lot faster.

All the same reasons I like to fly nonstop.

It's literally been 21 years since I last took a connecting flight somewhere. The only reason was because it was the only way I could get to a surprise birthday party I'd arranged for a friend who was shooting a movie in Ponca City, Oklahoma. If you've never been to Ponca City, the Walmart on Saturday night is the hot tip. You're welcome.

Of course, part of the reason it's been so long since I've been on a connecting flight is I usually fly to destinations that are easy to get to directly. San Francisco. Las Vegas. New York. Las Vegas. Seattle. Las Vegas. Portland. Las Vegas. Austin. You get the pattern.

With how much I love gambling (how could you tell?), you'd think I'd book connecting flights more often. It's always a roll of the dice whether or not it'll be on time, the connecting flight will be there when I land, or the weather will cooperate at the second airport of the day.

I was just in Iowa. I had to fly to Denver, connect to Sioux Falls, South Dakota, then drive an hour and a half to where I was going in Iowa. It was an adventure, but it wasn't fun.

Like visits to the dentist, prostate exams and tax returns, I just prefer to have it done and over with as soon as possible. But because of the airline hub structure, and my need to go to little out-of-the-way towns in Iowa, I don't have as much choice in the matter as I used to.

I suppose the thing to do would be to look at connecting flights as a way to see parts of the country I wouldn't normally see, fly a variety of aircraft I wouldn't otherwise get to experience and rack up more frequent flier miles than I might going nonstop.

I also suppose I could also look at kale as cotton candy, but that's not happening either.

Drive time

A good commute can be the difference between happy Jeff, and his evil twin – pissed off, short-fused, grudge-holding, horn-honking, lane-changing, one finger saluting, swearing like a drunk longshoreman Jeff.

So what makes a good commute? Well, for starters—and this should come as no surprise—distance.

For a long time, in what I believe was a very strange coincidence—or was it?—my commute to the agencies I was working at was exactly 26 miles each way. It seemed to be my travel threshold.

Even though 26 miles doesn’t sound like a lot, you can do the math - and if you can't then I believe it's a damning indictment of our public education system. Don't get me started. Where was I? Oh, right. It's 52 miles round trip. But at 8:30 a.m. or 6 p.m. going against traffic on the 405, they feel like dog miles. It may as well be a 1000.

All this to say my commute now is spectacular. The agency I’m currently at is right at the beach (or as I called it the last time I wrote about it, tsunami adjacent). I don’t have to get on a freeway to get there, I just cruise down Pacific Coast Highway from my house. There’s never any traffic on that stretch of PCH at that time of day, and it takes me about 20 to 25 minutes to arrive unstressed and un-pissed off at work.

Which brings me to the second component in a good commute: the destination.

I’ve worked for a few agencies in San Francisco over the years. They all have the same politics, personalities and British-accented, insight spouting, knit-cap wearing planners every other agency has. Here’s the difference: at the end of the day, I’d open the door to leave, and I’d be in San Francisco. It made up for a lot of ills. Flight and all, my commute to the San Francisco shops from my house was often faster than my commute to Orange County.

Another item that makes for a good commute is the scenery. You can have a short commute where you get to work in no time, but if it takes you through the senseless murder district coming and going, it’s still not very pleasant.

Since my commute du jour runs down PCH, I get to see the ocean, surfers, joggers and beach rats while I drive there and back. If I’m working a little later (stops to laugh at the thought of working later), I can even manage to catch a summer sunset. Like the old saying goes, getting there is half the fun.

Of course, depending which agency you're commuting to, it just may be all the fun.

Turnaround

I was in Austin for a few lovely days, and then flew back last night. I was home about eleven hours, unpacked, re-packed, then was back on a plane to San Francisco this morning.

By the way, lest you get any ideas about paying the house a visit, my German Shepherd, alarm system, wife, and, the thing you should be most afraid of – my teenage daughter – are still on full alert guarding the ponderosa.

It all feels very jetset-y, until you’re waiting at baggage claim and three planes worth of luggage come cascading down the slide onto the carousel, and everybody pushes you out of the way shouting, "Mine's the black one!"

Then it feels like water-boarding would be a viable option, for them. Not you.

There’s a rhythm to travel, hopping from one plane and place to the next, blowing into town long enough to see the family, then heading out again until next time. Like jogging and eating beets, if you do it often enough you build endurance for it. I think what I’ve learned is I don’t do it often enough.

The glamour of air travel is a long, lost notion – something I wrote about here four years ago. As far as I can tell, now it’s just mainly exhausting.

But, and it's a big but, just like the person in the middle seat next to me on the way up here, I have to confess - I still like the process. Getting the flight I want. Choosing my favorite window seat (aisle seats are for people who think flight is just a theory). Seeing what kind of plane I'll be on. I also like the perks that come with sitting in the front of the plane: early boarding, a bathroom less traveled, bigger seats, more space and eavesdropping on the flight attendants as they tell passenger horror stories.

If I sound like I'm sending mixed signals, it's because I am. I like it, and I don't like it. Not unlike my high school girlfriend.

It's hard to believe years ago I used to have a crippling fear of flying considering how much I love it now. I guess if I'd known about that front of the plane thing I would've gotten over it a lot sooner. I used to take what I called my "Flights To Nowhere," four or six flights a day between cities just to rack up mileage so I could maintain my Premier status in United's frequent flyer program. Like Clooney in Up In The Air, I didn't do anything, buy anything or stay anywhere that didn't reward me miles towards my goal. I even had a nickname: Flyboy.

Anyway, these days flying for me has become utilitarian instead of recreational. Which is okay.

Because the truth is now that I've racked up all those miles, I'd hate to use them.

Pay as you go

When it comes to credit cards, I like to know I'm at least getting a little reward for my completely undisciplined spending. That's why I have two airline affinity cards I use to help me rack up the miles.

Funny thing about credit card companies - they expect you to pay them. I know, right?

Sometimes, as any freelancer will tell you, the bills get there before the checks do. The cash flow isn't always as prompt as you'd like it to be. It's not that it's not there, it's just not there right now.

A few months ago, I managed to run up one of my cards to a healthy sum. It fact, at that point in time, it was a healthier sum than I had coming in.

Eventually I paid it off, but I'm not a guy who likes to have debt. I'm not comfortable with it, never have been. I used to pay my phone and electric bills a year in advance just so I wouldn't have to think about them (I also used to spend my rent money at the track, but I don't do that anymore either - long story).

Now before you say it, don't say it. I know I could've invested that money instead of letting the phone and power company earn interest on it. But to me, my peace of mind and retaining the ability to breathe knowing those bills were paid was a good investment.

Anyway, as a result of having run up that card - little suckers just sneak up on you don't they? - I now do something I've never done. I pay as I go.

At the end of every day, I go on the credit card site and see how much I've charged. Then I transfer money from my checking account to cover the daily balance. With a keystroke, I'm current on the card.

It also helps because knowing how much is in my checking keeps a tighter rein on my spending since I know I'll have to cover it the next night. At least that's the theory.

But with 467,000 frequent flyer miles, I'm not sure how well it's working.