I'm typing this post from the Reno airport. Although Reno is not one of my favorite cities, the airport is pretty cozy. It's decorated more for The Sierras than Reno, making a new visitor think they're in the mountains instead of the desert. Regardless of how comfortable the setting, I hate this airport. As I drive on 395 approaching it, I start to get an awful feeling. Not anxiety that some people suffer from flying. It's sadness. That's really the only way to define it - I feel sad at the Reno airport.
Since college, a group of friends of mine and I leave our families and our work to spend a week together in Lake Tahoe. We ski. We eat and drink like kings. We gamble. We watch college basketball. We talk. We consult. We watch movies. We laugh. Man, do we laugh. There are about 20 of us, and we rent one huge house. We're committed to this trip. None of us knew our wives when we started our tradition, but all of us explained the importance of it early in our relationships - and they all support this trip. My wife encourages it because she sees me light up when I tell others about it, and she sees the smile I have on my sunburned, chapped face when I return home each year.
... so now you know why I'm sitting in the Reno airport, and why I hate this place. This is where I sit every year after our trip has ended. This is where I sit and think about the 51 weeks between now and our next gathering. This is where I reflect on the laughter, friendship, and memories of the last few days. This is where I sulk. Until now...
I'm not sad this year. Don't get me wrong - I had another "over-the-top" experience, but I can't wait to board this plane. I can't wait to see my wife. I can't wait to see my three-year-old daughter. Two nights ago, she asked my wife when I was coming home because "I miss Daddy". I almost started driving home to Orlando at that moment. I can't wait to catch up and hear my wife's stories from the past week. I can't wait for us to laugh out loud on our back patio like we were two buddies from high school. I can't wait to take my daughter to MyGym tomorrow morning, and to school on Monday while we play I Spy. I can't wait to watch the underwear show on Monday night (my daughter calls Family Feud "the underwear show" - don't ask). I can't wait to walk together to Mill's Market for dinner one random week night like we always do.
Life changes, and we evolve – hopefully for the better. I’m just so grateful that my life has unfolded the way it has. RNO, you’re not treating that badly this year, but I’m ready to leave you. I just can’t wait to get home.
