Amy Lynn O’Connell
It’s your last night in Paris, and until this point, you were happy to not have Internet on your cell. TMI…damn wifi at this fancy pants hotel. Yesterday, you moved across the river to Saint Germain, an area of Paris famous for it’s rich intellectual history, rich shopping and of course, a certain sweet liqueur that blends nicely with Champaign.
It’s late morning in London and the first thing you notice is how heavy and delicious the air is, as compared to Denver. Zooming past a myriad of billboard ads along the highway from London Heathow Airport, the buildings start to twist into neighborhoods with knotty roads and brick chimneys lined up like dominos. Checking in at the Waldorf London Hotel, you politely ask the concierge to lend you an umbrella, and venture out into the streets, groggy from the flight, but thankful to rediscover your legs.
Recently, my girlfriend was laid up on my couch complaining about how she was coming down with something. My first thought was to cover my mouth and order HVAC supplies to quarantine her. Visions of men in space suits speaking scientific mumbo jumbo startled me, and prompted a more caring response.
My very first business trip as a 21 year-old sales and marketing analyst landed me on a top floor of the Copley Square Marriott, Back Bay Boston, MA. An entirely company-funded trip? I felt like I had arrived.
Departing from string of commitments in the city, you could use a night on the coast, separated from congested streets and siren sounds.
Pride is a time to reconnect with these friends and remember that – although we all identify in a variety of ways and have gone on to accomplish a multitude of different things – we have deep shared roots, and that’s worth revisiting each year.
