Planes, Trains and Automobiles

Wheels up! All aboard! Road trip!

Travel, by any means and for any reason can be a big bad booby trap. It’s the perfect storm. A trip outside of your comfort zone, a loss of control over circumstances and environment and often expanses of down time to fill. Airport bars, roadside bars, hotel bars and bar cars...there’s something seductive about a place where “nobody knows your name”, where time stands still.

I always loved drinking in airports. Time zones are blurred, strangers are friends, day drinking is normal and the bars never close. When I first got sober I quickly learned that it was worth paying more for a direct flight than to tempt myself with a layover. Two weeks ago my flight from New York to Chicago was cancelled and they rebooked me on the next flight...but it connected in Sarasota. Rather than risk ending up drunk on a Florida beach after wandering into the “Skymiles Saloon” I changed airlines, forfeited a refund and paid extra for a direct flight.

As a recovery coach I’m often hired for what we call sober transport. Imagine leaving a treatment center or rehab to go back home. No matter how many days, weeks or even months of abstinence you have under your belt it’s the first big re-entry challenge you face. You’re usually returning to the scene of the crime, the place where it all went down, the people responsible for (or in your mind guilty of) getting you help in the first place. You may be terrified, you may be feeling shame and guilt, you may be trying to imagine what your old life will look like without alcohol. You may be moving back into a household where alcohol is present, served and consumed. You may even be living with a spouse, parent or child who struggles with substance abuse. What better way to allay some of that anxiety than a drink in the airport or a pill on the plane.

And layovers are the worst. As a recovery coach, I’ve flown to various cities to meet people in early recovery just so I can help them navigate that slippery slope of making their way through the vast expanse of restaurants and bars, some right next to the gate. I never leave the airport, I’m just a companion in the terminal and on the flight home.

Support during post-treatment transition is critical, but even years of sobriety won’t guarantee immunity from the hazards of travel. My dad is dying. My frequent trips to see him are wrapped in fear and uncertainty. My drinking and using were inevitably a response to a loss of control and to feelings I didn’t want to feel. So I need to practice mindfulness and acceptance and self-care. And I need to remember that I’m no good to Dad if I check out with alcohol, drugs or even food or electronics.

Dad’s successful career spanned sixty years and required frequent business travel. He had a lot of favorite cities...but it had nothing to do with the airports.

And he never missed a flight because he lingered too long in a bar.