Modern travel has undoubtedly been shaped by commercial air flight. People fly as if it is a common matter and think rarely of the dynamics of flight. Two years ago in Costa Rica I was given a rude awakening to the science and danger of taking to the sky in a man made box of steel. I was on a vacation with some friends (just the normal tourist, beach thing, nothing too fun) when our flight got delayed because of heavy rain. I usually do not mind flight delays; it gives you time to read or get to know the people around you. This time, however, I was not the most excited person in South America. There was not another flight back to Chicago for four days, so I knew my options were either going to be sitting in the airport attempting to learn Spanish for a good part of the week or attempt to get back using a series of transfers. The problem with traveling internationally, at least for me, is that you always want direct flights; transfers in foreign countries are confusing and usually mean hours of lines and rude people. However, in this case, I knew it was unavoidable. We arranged a flight from Costa Rica to Panama then to Hawaii then home. Luckily, I was traveling with some people who, to say the least, get taken care of by the Airline industry. Frequent flyers are treated better no matter what anyone says. All was good and we headed out to Panama. Hooray for canals and what ever else they got (in fact I didn’t care, as long as there was an airport). This flight was good and we landed at 3pm. Our flight to Hawaii was scheduled to leave in an hour, but for some reason we couldn’t find it listed on any of the arrival/departure signs. My frequently flying friends inquired and were told the flight was still scheduled but only 8 people were on board so it was not listed. Excited that were had half of the plane to ourselves we quickly sought out the bar, which we couldn’t find. So we waited. When it was time to board, a man who looked like a pilot (which he was) came and got us personally. We just thought the airline was being especially nice to it’s best customers and followed along. We walked out on the tarmac and saw our death trap of a plane. This plane looked like it had been in the second World War: I was looking for bullet holes the whole time. Just before we got on the pilot whipped a scale out of his bag and motioned for everyone to step on it before boarding. After stepping on it the pilot would whisper to the co-pilot where to seat us in the plane. Apparently this plane was so old, the weight actually had to be balanced in order to fly. So long story short, I spent multiple hours shaking as I road the oldest plane I have ever seen though a storm sitting next to a seven year old kid. The moral of this story is, just wait. Four days is a long time to wait to see your family, but imaging how long they would have to wait to pull your scorched corpse out of the Pacific Ocean.

I have had some interesting jobs and internships since entering college. I have been a lifeguard, a climbing instructor, a campaign assistant, and even a debt collector, yet, last summer I decided no job was necessary. I made the decision early last spring to spend the summer climbing in Colorado. I had never climbed in that state before, yet, climbing has but one purpose…go up. So I felt confident I could figure things out quickly. I had a basic itinerary when I flew out to Denver in June. I knew I wouldn’t follow it, but I had it. My first night in Denver was spent in a hostel where I met a group of people my age from California. These four people, who later became great friends of mine, had similar goals for the summer. So with a combined 600 dollars in food and what ever gear we could get in our packs we hopped a shuttle bus to Leadville and began.

We spent over four weeks hiking and climbing. Occasionally we would run into other groups and join them for a few days, but for the most part we were on our own. I had been on trips of this sort before, but the length of this one was a new experience for me. While the stories of the mountains and the near death experiences we endured could fill a book, the real lesson I got out of this trip was discovering the uselessness of modern news. I, by my own admission, am a news junkie. I can recite the latest Gallup poll like it is my mothers birthday, however, since this last summer I have calmed down a bit. When I left for Colorado, there were around eight candidates for President on each side, Barry Bonds was about to break the homerun record, the war in Iraq was going awful, and the media was scaring people senseless on a daily basis. When I returned to Denver and rented a hotel room in mid July, the only thing new was Barry Bonds had broken the home run record.

If I would have lived a normal life this last summer, I am sure that I would have followed the news those four weeks with excitement and utter obsession. I would have been much more well versed on the heath care proposals of Mike Gravel and Ron Paul, I would be able to tell you where Barry Bonds was born, I would have been able to recite the Iraq war death count daily…but does any of that matter? Details are not important. The modern media feeds off of petty details that keep the public tuned in. If CNN, ABC, NBC, FOX, and MSNBC would have went off of the air in mid-June and reappeared in mid-July the world would be the same. People would have the same opinions. So why tune in?

When I returned I canceled my cable TV and I have never regretted the decision. I will read a news paper or check news online occasionally, but that is all. I am still informed, educated, and able to make responsible decisions, yet, I am not scared to death that there is drugs in my tap water or a child rapist living next door. I am happy with this. Sometimes getting away from something is all you need to test its usefulness in your own life. We have been so accustomed to living on the edge of the next breaking story that it seems that all we can pay attention to is other people. To truly learn you must do more then listen and read, you must experience life.

The World is a book, and those who do not travel read only a page. ~St. Augustine