I love traveling. I love it so much I’ve even convinced myself I’m not bothered by the inconveniences it sometimes brings. Case in point? I actually like going to the airport. Something about surrendering control—because really, what choice do you have?—relaxes me and gives my mind permission to wonder to corners I don’t normally let it visit.

I spend so much of my public-facing life trying to stay focused and on point. To waste any of it dreaming* seems like a needless waste of precious energy. Because flying is something I usually do solo, I love the way I can just fold into myself and escape with my thoughts. The white noise seems to fuel my imagination, or if I’m feeling more contemplative, take me back to my life’s most memorable moments.

We can be anyone when we fly. I become quiet when I fly. In real life, I sometimes can’t shut up, but put me on a plane and I just can’t wait to zip it. I smile at the family in front of me–no, don’t worry, I like children; admire what it must take to fly with two under 2 to France, mon dieu! I try to make eye contact with the other rumpled middle-aged people sharing the tight quarters–I know, can you believe it, I can’t believe he reclined his seat! I find myself ordering the “healthy custom meals” and then cower in shame when they discover that no, it’s not an 80-year-old who ordered the low sodium special, just someone who wanted to guarantee she got grilled chicken!

There are so many ways to travel and see the world. When I get to my destination, if I am alone I like to explore by foot. Sometimes with headphones on, taking in the scenery like I’m part of a movie. The headphones are my armor, giving me space no matter the crowds. I can go hours like this. This is when I am my most romantic self.

Today’s musical inspiration? Come on, it’s The Monkees!