It’s good to be humbled when you travel. Unless you’re a complete asshole, it’s hard not to be. Wherever you go, not matter how remote, no matter how exotic, no matter how “oh my God, we were totally, like, the only white people there” “crazy”, these are places where people have lived their entire lives, and in most cases, where people have lived their entire lives for thousands of years. Unless you’re huddled amongst a troupe of emperor penguins in Antarctica or dining on mollusks at the bottom of Lake Baikal, you’re really not that special. People have done what you’re doing before, and people will do what you’re doing after you.
A few minutes ago here in the Seattle airport a husband and wife walked by wearing “Ukpeagvik Wrestling” and “Barrow Whalers” sweatshirts. This instantly humbled me and infuriated me. Firstly, I thought I was the only one going to Barrow. I thought I was special. Secondly, I thought this was a big deal. I thought this was a desolate, foreboding place where only the strongest of the strong survive. A place where you need to be able to kill a polar bear with a jackknife in order to keep yourself from becoming lunch. A place where the sure footing to dodge a deranged musk ox might be the only thing between you and death.
Now I feel sort of like I’m going to a girls U-12 soccer tournament in Issaquah.
HOWEVER, there is something that will always remain special no matter how many people have gone to a place before you. Unless you’re taking body shots off the stomach of an emaciated sorority girl in Cabo San Lucas (and hell, EVEN if you’re taking body shots of the stomach of an emaciated sorority girl in Cabo San Lucas) the way you experience any given destination will always be special. Sure, people have seen what you’ve seen and done what you’ve done before, but no one has seen it exactly the way you saw it, or felt exactly the way you felt. And no one will feel exactly the way you felt ever again.
So, as I sit here and try to figure out how the hell I can conclude this little reflection with some kind of profound summary statement, I’m struck by the reality that my flight to Anchorage leaves in less than 20 minutes, and I really need to get moving.
Barrow!!!
hellow