I document almost everything when I travel. Flight numbers, what I ate, what the seat did to my back, the idea that arrived somewhere over Greenland and didn't survive the landing. Most of it is worthless. Some of it isn't.

While pulling old notes into one folder, I found 3 entries from a 3-week stretch in the summer of 2023. Los Angeles to London to Dublin in June. 2 weeks later, Los Angeles to Houston, aimed at a customer meeting in Monterrey that I never made it to. I was CTO and CISO at Imperva then, and the calendar was running me rather than the other way around.

Reading them back, the thing that surprises me is not how bad the days were. It's how completely normal they felt while they were happening. I can still visualize most of these moments! What I didn't expect is that every entry ends the same way. Not with a resolution or a lesson...but with some version of wanting to be home.

I've left them mostly alone. Same details, same digressions, and the same well-deserved snark about Heathrow.

June 19, 2023

Returning to my home in the clouds, I keep thinking about Miyazaki's "Castle in the Sky." I've only just recognized how much of the sky is in his work, and I wonder how much Shinto is in there too. There's a book on Shinto sitting on my shelf at home. Maybe I read it and then watch the film again.

Back to earth. I'm on a Dreamliner from Los Angeles to London for a week of work. The plane has a bar, which is a marvelous thing for people with a taste for libations at altitude. I abstain. My only project tonight is dragging my circadian rhythm forward into a timezone that is most of a day ahead of the one I live in. Late departure, 6:30pm arrival, then the tedium of luggage. Heathrow, in all its monstrosity, deserves its own post someday.

This aircraft has a rather interesting "Upper Class" cabin: 3 columns of single seats, each set at a diagonal. I convert my modern pod of a seat into a flat bed and discover that at 6'3", the day after a 21-mile bicycle ride, it is a tight and uncomfortable fit.

I will myself to sleep anyway, until a sudden jolt pulls me back into consciousness. Turbulence is a harsh reminder that I control nothing.

Fully awake now, I notice my fellow passengers jarred awake too. A woman across the aisle and I exchange a glance that acknowledges our shared predicament. It doesn't last long, but every second of it is nerve-wracking. Clattering noises, startled gasps, overhead bins creaking. How anyone sleeps through that is a wonder.

My heart rate goes from a calm 40 to over 80. A palpable reminder to relinquish control.

Which is what this journal is for. A daily mental exercise to get thoughts out of my head and put them somewhere else.

The goodbyes from my kids this afternoon were heartrending and they've been sitting with me all night. Work is important. Family is essential. I need a break, a real one, at least a month, and I'm going to take it. Let's see whether keeping this journal through the next 2 weeks of work travel helps me get there.

On flights I limit myself to one show or one movie. It isn't a rule, more of a habit, and it leaves room for other things: sketching the outline of a science fiction novella, or losing myself in Keith Jarrett's sublime piano. His playing is fluid and confident, and it makes chaotic weeks feel survivable.

Redeyes have their merits. I get the whole day at home, I get to pack alongside everyone, and I leave after the kids are asleep. They're also lonely. Every conversation is functional and with the crew. Solo work travel, over time, weighs on the spirit.

We start our descent and I run the list: clear customs, retrieve luggage, make the long commute into the city, check in, call home. A day trip to Dublin tomorrow, which I'm looking forward to, shadowed by a 4am start.

June 20, 2023

Man, I'm worn out.

Last night went late, buried in work email until midnight. That's the downside of being in Europe. Asia and North America both land on you like a ton of bricks. Meetings all day, email piling up behind them, and the whole thing feels like trying to catch a moving train. Keep your head above water. Take each wave as it comes.

The dreams had their own sideshow going. Late night eating plus an early wake up call, probably. One moment I'm asleep, the next I'm on a mission to clean a suitcase. Who dreams about cleaning a suitcase? My suitcases and bags are as vital as my phone and my laptop. But seriously, WHO CLEANS THEIR SUITCASES?

The 3:45am wake up was more nerve-wracking than refreshing, entirely thanks to the paranoia of missing my ride to the airport. I used the extra time for bodyweight exercises in the hotel room, got dressed, and headed down to the car. My driver was fast asleep and oblivious to my taps and shouts. I wanted to trade places with him for a few extra minutes of that.

Off to Dublin on an early flight. There's a podcast interview waiting on the other end with Ireland's top tech podcast. I spent the 45-minute ride skimming briefings, catching up on MOVEit and Anonymous Sudan headlines, and dispatching email to our European team. All that reading and typing almost made me car sick.

Random thought: does Apple know how much I use the iOS keyboard? What is my daily word count on this thing?

Security at the airport was a breeze, a rare feat at Heathrow.

I put in a quick breakfast order and started jotting down a blog post. The food came fast, which is exactly what I needed with my schedule. Eggs, smoked salmon, a chocolate croissant, and a cappuccino for the caffeine punch.

Sitting there, I couldn't help noticing the chic airport fashion around me. People here know how to dress up for a flight. Such a contrast to American travel style. Hello, sweatpants. The wealth here is no joke either: Rolex watches, Hermès and Fendi handbags, Chanel shoes. Everyone's ready to rock the runway, the other kind.

While waiting to pay, my mind started spinning a dystopian sci-fi novella. Picture this:

It makes you wonder about the kind of data we're sharing.

Then a mad rush to the gate, where I found out the plane had a mechanical issue. Back to the terminal it is. I used the extra time to draft, edit, and publish a blog post with Diana: Understanding and Mitigating MOVEit Incidents.

Being in a flow state is seriously gratifying. Looking up, I noticed the other travelers in their own bubbles, engrossed in their phones, replying to emails and texts. Outlook galore. Everywhere I looked, people were in the zone. Good on you, folks. When we finally boarded the replacement aircraft, I was surrounded by more of the same. It makes me wonder if we're all in the same boat.

Random thought: what will our pinky fingers evolve into with all this smartphone use over the next century? Or will AR glasses take over first? Powering contact lenses sounds cool but complicated. How about neural or visual implants? Will I see that in my lifetime?

Settling into my seat, I was jealous of my fellow passenger. His iPad setup was the dream, work and media in one neat package. Apple, please fix your iPad OS. Thermals could be an issue, but product cannibalization feels like the real problem. The ultimate dream is a macOS running iPad Pro. Come on, Apple. Make it happen.

I woke up before 4 in the morning to record a podcast in Dublin. The delays turned it into a Zoom meeting scheduled for later this week. Kinda sucks, but hey, it's travel. Things go haywire and you have to roll with the punches. Some folks lose it when plans don't pan out. There's so much beyond our control. We gotta go with the flow.

July 6, 2023

Had a productive flight this morning from LAX to IAH. I went through all of the music I've written over the years and organized it into logical EPs that I'd love to release one day. It feels great to have gone through this exercise. It would be incredible to partner with one of my favorite producers to see these 26 little ambitions realized.

I think that was one of the few highlights of the day, because, well, today was a shit show. Everything that could go wrong, did.

The morning flight itself was great, safe and comfortable. I even got to see my brother's in-laws on board, connecting from IAH to Delhi via Lufthansa, which feels like Frankfurt could be in the mix. Side note: that's a pretty wild route.

Seconds after we landed, the heavens ruptured and proceeded to dump rain. Houston has been super humid and needed the respite. The challenge was that thunderstorms and lightning strikes prevented crews from working, which began the great flight delays of the day. On top of that, my connecting aircraft to Monterrey had an operational issue. The combination meant my connection was delayed with an indefinite departure window. So began the scramble.

I attempted to change my ticket back to LAX, after housing a meal. (Yesterday I skipped breakfast, skipped dinner, had a minimal lunch, and slept like junk, which resulted in waking up late, skipping breakfast again, and rushing to the airport.) The agent canceled my flights to Monterrey but said it was impossible to get on an evening flight back to LAX. The moment I stepped out of the lounge I checked the app, and sure enough, there was a flight leaving tonight. Seriously, agent. Why couldn't you do what I could from my app? Your 10 fingers, a full keyboard, and access to United's backend couldn't find what I found with a thumb?

I then headed to an airport Marriott so I could do my big Monterrey meeting via Zoom, which is just ridiculous, but whatever, let's go with it. The hotel was recommended by one of my directs, and he said I could take the air train there. So began the next scramble.

I basically performed a binary search through the terminals with the airport train before realizing it was impossible to take the train to the hotel. I don't know whether it was weather or service, but they'd suspended it. I confirmed this by eventually visiting the hotel website. No worries, they said. I could take a shuttle.

So there I was, standing outside the airport waiting for a shuttle while it absolutely poured. 5 minutes, 10 minutes, 15 minutes, 20 minutes. Where was the shuttle? I gave up and grabbed an Uber to the hotel.

Puddles everywhere. Leaks everywhere. Water accumulating in places where it just shouldn't. What's up, Houston? This city feels like it needs some TLC. Someone needs to show it some attention and help it out.

Anyway, I arrived at the hotel, booked a room in case I needed to spend the night, and headed to the bar to grab something to drink. After downing some water, I hobbled up to my room. When the elevator door opened at my floor, I was greeted with a puddle several inches deep, extending from the elevator all the way to just feet from my door...and here's the thing that immediately occurred to me:

This is a mild storm in the spectrum of Houston storms. 
For sure this puddle has been an ocean before.
For sure that ocean has been in my hotel room.

I walked into the room and set up my mobile rig, charging station and laptop. I got my presentation ready and started burning down all of the email, which had piled up since London. Staying on top of email with my schedule is just really difficult.

Anyway, I was getting ready for my big meeting when I finally got the Slack message: the customer canceled.

I stood up from my mobile rig immediately.

What? What!

Let's just piece this together:

  1. I came all the way to meet with a customer in Monterrey, Mexico
  2. I settled for doing the meeting via Zoom from a hotel room in Houston
  3. I am now sitting in a hotel room in Houston with no actual purpose

I'm away from my family. I've slept 2 hours. I've been impacted by weather. Now this?

I got on the phone and worked through 4 distinct options:

  1. Keep my evening United flight back to LAX, except it was delayed by more than 2 hours with the likelihood of landing past 1am, which led to the second option...
  2. Change my flight to tomorrow, stay in Houston, and just sleep. But what if tomorrow was a repeat of today? Which led to the third option...
  3. Get out of Houston at all costs. One possibility was Vegas, the upside being breakfast with one of my closest friends and a drive back if flights were further impacted. The challenge was that the Vegas flights were equally delayed. Which led to the fourth and best option...
  4. Change airlines. Denise found the last seat on an American flight departing at 8pm, and they wouldn't allow me to buy the ticket online. Probably some post 9/11 thing still impacting us 20 years later.

I collapsed my rig into a backpack, called an Uber, and wheeled out of the hotel around 7pm. I got to the American counter, bought the ticket, and went through security all within 15 minutes. At 7:15pm I had successfully made a very calculated hedge. Whichever flight left first would be the one I flew, canceling and getting a full refund on the other.

So how did it end?

I'm on the American flight. I put on some music and dozed for about 45 minutes. Looks like they served boxes of food while I was knocked out. The flight attendant is more concerned with reading her book on this tiny Embraer 175. I heard her shout "I can't wait to get back home" to the other crew. Me too, lady. Me too.

Just realized we've been flying for almost 90 minutes and we're still gliding over Texas, approaching New Mexico. Hang on, I need to grab a picture from my airplane window. The sunset is beautiful.

I'm looking forward to getting back home in a few hours, giving Denise a giant hug, and eating a real meal. There are a few more work follow-ups I need to dig into tonight. I also want to get back to my Deep Learning and AI explorations tomorrow, when I have more energy.

Ok, the clouds and the glow are beautiful, so I must go.