Kindness of Strangers

I have a love/hate relationship with complexity. When compelled, I’ll attack a problem with a nausea-inducing dogma. As I recently discovered when purchasing a round-the-world (RTW) ticket, it turns out that this statement is not an exaggeration. Just because one is good at something, does not necessarily mean he enjoys it.

In January, I embarked on a process following a disciplined approach, trying to get the most value for our money, adhering to the tenets of a money-saving credo. I quickly honed in on the OneWorld alliance RTW ticket as it provides excellent coverage to many of the places we want to visit. I carefully constructed a draft of our RTW itinerary, daydreaming about all the mystical places we’d soon visit. My best laid plans, however, were soon dashed by the thick French accent of Michael from American Airlines, tersely stating that our total number of segments had been exhausted before even reaching South America. I imagine Michael sitting at his computer terminal, cigarette dangling from his mouth, admonishing the system for its slow response time while he literally pounds on the keyboard, hot ashes falling into the deep crevice between the “n” and “m” keys. Michael takes pity on my naivete, offering helpful tips, but I clearly need to hang up and regroup.

Over the next months, I greatly enhance my OneWorld acumen, learning the intricacies and nuances of our itinerary. I call American Airlines enough times to actually learn the cast of characters. There’s Robert, who has a clear understanding of the rules and a calm demeanor, and I always have a feeling of progress made when I hang up. I have no doubt that the Indians would say a phone call with him is an auspicious event. But then there’s Robert’s antithesis, in the form of the curmudgeonly Rebecca, who dismisses all your statements with a monotone “mmm hmm.” And lest you engage her personally, she’ll drone on about the No Child Left Behind Act, not letting you get a word in edgewise, only to force you off the phone prematurely, citing the long queue of phone calls. But, I become adept at navigating this stormy sea, once even hanging up when Rebecca answers so I can call back and speak to Michael instead. Soon, I’m citing policy to the agents, and most frightening of all, I’m usually correct.

One day, Elizabeth tells me about the 13 months website, a no-nonsense, “how to” primer on RTW travel. They had also chosen a OneWorld ticket, and had shrewdly saved thousands by originating their tickets in the UK. The catch? They enlisted good friends who lived in the UK to purchase the tickets on their behalf. But I don’t know anyone in the UK very well. No matter, this is just a technicality, I think to myself. Through much work, I actually track down a business contact, who graciously agrees to help me after he returns from a holiday in Tasmania. I know he’s a completely trustworthy person, but I can’t help but feel a bit strange asking such a huge favor of someone I’ve only met a couple of times. Elizabeth asks if I’m trying to fit a square peg in a round hole in a mission to save a dubious amount of money. Nonsense, I say.

I set everything up: a special UK-based itinerary, research one-way tickets over there, money transfer options, and detailed instructions for my colleague to carry out the purchase. I spend countless hours stressing over this scheme, which often carries over to my sleep. On a particularly bad day, I have what I imagine is the precursor to a panic attack, where something like a horrifically oppressive Jamaican humidty is pushing on me from all sides, making it difficult to breathe. No matter, I think, since I’m almost finished. But, it seems like every time I enact a new step to this plan, there’s a new obstacle to overcome. I no longer know how close I am to the finish line; it is a mirage that keeps moving. The final insult comes when I go to transfer the money overseas, and I find there’s a currency conversion fee that will significantly eat away our savings. Elizabeth and I do a back-of-the-envelope calculation, and find that our savings are negligible, certainly not the thousands I had pined for.

To our relief, I purchased the US-based ticket this morning. Perhaps in an alternate universe, with more time, I could have devined a more clever solution. Elizabeth had been correct when she pointed out that the 13 months people had good, long-time friends to help them out, when I was asking so much of my business colleague. Our time frame was short, and our stress levels ever-increasing. Sure, we may have saved a bit more money by going with the UK option, but at what cost? I feel a great weight lifted off me as I purchase the tickets, once again filled with excited anticipation for our RTW trip.