Passenger Princess (Deluxe)
(International Version)
Hello mixers!
I know, I know, it’s been a minute since we’ve gathered here, and for that I am sorry! I have the usual excuses (supposed laziness, busy times, not having anything to write about), and for that I am also sorry. I hope this month’s post will earn your forgiveness, shares, and likes.
I’m also hoping to venture into more and different types of posts, although what that exactly looks like is TBD. My manager (Derek) tells me this will be good to keep my creativity flowing and my brand growing. I hope you’ll all be along for the ride.
Now, on with the show!
“A passenger princess is a woman who has others drive while she sits in the passenger seat.” - Dictionary.com.
For someone who eagerly got her driver’s permit at age 15 and a half, I’ve become a big passenger princess these days. Whenever Derek and I drive somewhere, I’m comfortably perched in the passenger seat—the exception being when we’re visiting LA where I always drive—GPS handy, music queued and snacks within reach.
Before and once we get to our destination, however, I’m a planner. That way, we have at least a vague itinerary to do the things we want to do. I’m the one always on my phone checking if we’re walking in the right direction, where the cool restaurants are, how far something is located. Since I was 13, an LG Chocolate, a red enV2, a blue knock-off enV, a Pixel or an iPhone has been glued to my hand to text my crush(es), text my BFFs about said crush(es), text my parents about my whereabouts, make plans with any of the above people and, more recently, check every social media platform every five minutes. My phone was so much a part of me that instead of fully grounding me, my parents would punish me by taking away my phone for days or weeks at a time. As a teenager, that was torture.
All that to say, constantly being on my phone for planning, communication and navigational purposes is like second nature. That all changes when we travel internationally.
Being a 20-something millennial, I am still on my parents’ phone plan (thanks, Mama!). This plan does not have affordable international access, and it’s not necessarily easy to add that on. Derek’s phone, on the other hand, has a pretty good international data plan. So once our flight attendants tell us to do so, I put my phone on airplane mode and there it stays until we touch back down in the States. International Passenger Princess has Activated.
I imagine I look like a doll, smiling vaguely, staring blankly here and there, being pulled along to who knows where. Of course I have more agency than that; I’m still the one who makes most of our plans in the first place, and I continue the planning when I have WiFi. But as the only one with data, Derek becomes the navigator, researcher and communicator. I am simply along for the ride.
And honestly, it’s amazing. Since I usually have my phone within three feet of me, traveling abroad is a chance to sever that connection. I bring it along to take pictures, but if we’re just going to dinner or to a pub, I comfortably leave it behind. It’s not like I’d be missing anything, which is a big reason why I so rarely am without my phone. I grew up on having notifications, news, texts and more delivered to me instantaneously, and I’m used to it. I expect to be plugged in almost all the time. But without data, there are no notifications, no alerts to look out for. I am free of the buzzing distractions to focus on the sights around me or to look both ways before crossing a British street.
Just a few weeks ago, Derek and I were in London for a friend’s wedding. We weren’t in town long, but we were determined to hit all the classically tourist-y sights for our first trip to the city. We rode the Tube (pronounced chewb) everywhere and took one of those double-decker Big Bus tours around all the main landmarks (as well as an iconic red double-decker city bus). Again, I was mostly on picture duty during our sightseeing tour, but only once in our five days of traveling did I connect to Derek’s mobile hotspot to help navigate. Derek told me where to walk and which train to get on, and I followed unquestioningly. If something were to have gone wrong, like if we took a wrong turn or missed the last train, I didn’t really care.
In fact, the one time I connected to the hotspot was when we were behind schedule and I wanted to make sure we would catch the last nearby Big Bus. As the one with the Big Bus app and more knowledgeable about the Big Bus route, it made sense for me to be the one to figure it out. But even then, I checked it, plotted our route to the bus stop, and disconnected again. We successfully made the bus; although the bus driver inexplicably dropped us all off a few stops later, told us to wait for the next bus that was coming to pick us up, and sauntered off into Hyde Park with his freshly rolled blunt. No buses arrived for 20 or so minutes, and only when another Big Bus employee happened to be walking by that we learned that no bus was ever going to pick us up. Still, I never even panicked! It’s a stark contrast to my typical neuroses, to let go of my anxiety and worry and need for control so completely, especially in a foreign country.
So if being separated from my phone is so amazing, why don’t I do it more often? It does happen accidentally sometimes, when I forget my phone before I leave for the store or some other errand. But in those instances, I know I’ll be reunited with my phone soon enough, and that it was nearby if I really did need it. Outside of those instances, though, I think the fear of missing out on something is simply too strong when connectivity is an option. I could miss a call from my mom about my 95-year old grandma, an engagement text from a friend, or a call from Derek that our building is burning down (my anxiety tells me these are all imminent).
I don’t want to miss these updates when they’re so easily at my fingertips. It’s when I don’t have a choice—or else risk exorbitant roaming charges or whatever, which I suppose I would do in a real emergency—that I can relax comfortably and let someone else be the connection to the rest of the world for a change.