My husband recently left for a work trip in Japan, spending two days in Tokyo, by himself.
Part of my brain thought: YOU LUCKY SOB!
Another part of my brain thought: OMG I’d have so much anxiety, I’d never leave the hotel.
I am a well-traveled person. I’ve literally visited all seven continents (yep, I am so annoying). However… here’s the thing few will admit about travel: It’s not easy! It’s super stressful and anxiety-inducing. Especially if you’re doing it alone.
Did admitting that make anyone feel just a little better?
Planning a trip is stressful. Picking the dates? Stressful. Figuring out where to stay? Packing? Dealing with dog and childcare while away (or, if you’re bringing them with, more packing!); delegating work tasks, cleaning the house, emptying the fridge… stressful. All this and you haven’t even arrived at TSA yet! And once you arrive at your destination, you’re trying to figure out how to get to your hotel or AirBnB. Now, imagine everything is in JAPANESE!!!
It’s a lot.
And yet, most of us still go places because we know (or hope) it’ll be fun. The experience makes the stress worth it.
In February, I decided to meet up with my husband Josh on a business trip in San Diego. His company planned a conference at the Hotel Del Coronado, the grande dame of SoCal and a place I’d always wanted to visit. He’d fly there on Sunday, and I’d meet up Wednesday night.
It sounded perfect. Except one thing: I’d need to rent a car from the airport and drive to the Del by myself.
In concept, that’s not a big deal. Show up at the airport, rent a car, drive there. Boop, done!
However, I couldn’t help but over-analyze every step. First, I’d arrive in San Diego IN THE DARK. Next, I’d take a shuttle to a creepy parking garage. Then, I’d pick out a car (probably a Nissan Altima, that I couldn’t find the wiper lever for), and hoped it had Apple car play so I could pull up navigation and drive through an unfamiliar city.
Again, at night. When the vampires, opossum and bad guys are out!
Naturally, I asked Josh, Can’t we just Uber all weekend?
But after running the numbers and discussing our plans, we concluded we needed our own wheels. So I rolled up my sleeves, booked a mid-size sedan from National, and prayed I wouldn’t get lost, murdered, or take the wrong left and accidentally end up in Tijuana.
After my uneventful flight (sans kids! Honestly, a vacation on its own), I followed signs to the rental car shuttle. I queued up, trying to look like a Confident Woman Who Does This All The Time. I boarded with purpose, and sat on a blue, scratchy carpeted shuttle seat, hoping my face looked nonplussed as I frantically searched for directions (which, by the way, told me my route may be closed due to flooding! Is it hot in here, or is it just my anxiety??).
I studied my fellow shuttle passengers. Did anyone look like a serial killer? Did anyone seems so sweet and wholesome that it felt… suspicious? I took note of any notable physical features. You know, in the event of my attack and eventual questioning by police if I survived.
Dark? Yes, but prepared.
We arrived at the rental car place a few miles from the airport. While the shuttle felt crowded, the garage seemed sparse and desolate.
Quiet. Too quiet. I took a deep, grounding breath.
I followed the National signs down an escalator, then up another escalator, until I saw a big green sign marking the Emerald Aisle. This is the greatest perk of National’s rewards program. Members don’t have to talk to anyone at a counter, they just find this magical aisle, pick any car, and drive off the lot.
I flagged down a female employee a few rows over, asking if any of these cars had Apple Car Play. I think all the Nissan Altimas do, she said.
I picked one, threw my bag in the back, hopped in, and locked the door. The car smelled brand new. I started the ignition and turned on the headlights (I hoped that’s what I’d done anyhow— at least I hadn’t activated the wipers!). I dug out my USB cord and pulled up directions, which calculated that I’d be at the hotel in 12 minutes. Next, I drove to the exit, where a 20-something woman asked to look at my driver’s license. I’d already dialed in a Prince playlist on Spotify, because I’m convinced nothing bad can happen to you if you’re listening to Prince.
Before handing my ID back and opening gate, the attendant smiled and said, My mom loves Prince! I both appreciated her sharing this fact, and also kinda hated her for making me feel old.
“Raspberry Beret” played as I drove out of the industrial area and onto the freeway, only making one wrong turn before crossing the Coronado Bridge, down a charming Main Street to the hotel. Josh met me at the valet where I handed some kid the keys and waived goodbye to the car. Twenty minutes later, Josh and I sat at the famed Babcock & Story bar drinking margaritas.
I share these boring details to reiterate just how not scary the experience was. Like almost everything I stress about, it’s worse in my brain than it is in real life.
This is why I Hey Eleanor (yes, it’s a verb!). It’s good to push yourself, just a little, regularly.
Because if you don’t rent the car this time, it’ll be even harder to do it the next time.
And then maybe you just won’t travel anywhere by yourself.
And then maybe you become too scared to fly.
And then you decide you’re not comfortable driving in the city any more; then, even in your own town; and all of a sudden you’re that person who only puts 213 miles on your car every year because you’re too scared to drive anywhere but Albertson’s and the doctor’s office.
I do not want to be that person.
It’s normal for everyday things to fill you with anxiety. We don’t talk about this kind of thing enough because it’s embarrassing. We feel like the only one who could possibly find renting a car scary! I’m not ashamed to tell you: I am a middle-aged adult woman and I did. But like learning a second language, or playing the piano, if you don’t use it, you lose it.
So keep putting yourself in situations that make you just a little scared.
Then, do it anyway.
PS Tell me: What’s an everyday thing that makes you anxious/scared? A few more of mine include answering the Caribou Coffee trivia question of the day, finding a parking place downtown that’s actually close to where I need to be, and ordering a menu item with a “punny” name (I’m looking at you, Crisp & Green and your No Prob, Cobb salad!)
Still one of the greatest accomplishments in my life was going to San Francisco in 2008, renting a car and driving to Oakland!! Albeit it was during the day :)
We could have a thread of all the things we do scared. I can’t shop in person. I can thrift shop but a real store spending real money I can’t. I can’t find things that look good on me after trying on 100 things. I can’t ask for help because what 43 year old has no idea of how to make her body look good much less style. Hello! Just wear black head to toe and you are fine insert deep breathing here. Then I have to buy something so I scan around trying to find something to buy. I also can’t decorate my house so it has nothing…. I would say a fear of not knowing and regretting things later.