I certainly welcome a change of scenery or getting to explore some far off place. But I hate travelling. Why does the actual process of getting somewhere have to be so nerve-wracking? As if all the preparing, making phone calls, confirming dates and times, packing, cleaning, checking and rechecking, and waiting at the airport isn’t all exhausting enough, you then still have to go through the traumatic process of actually flying across hundreds, if not thousands, of miles of land and water 30,000 feet below you. How is one supposed to sleep at night knowing the countless things that still need to be done, worrying about the countless other things that could go wrong at any step along the way? Who the hell ever decided that travel was relaxing?