May 29, 2017
Friday evening, the end of a week of work, good work that I enjoy. Yet planning travel for people is work of a specific kind that demands constant dialogue and a focus that must grasp and assemble an endless array of details. It is tiring, that micro focus, and a steady diet of it leaves me often feeling like I am toiling in a room with small windows. And so, as quickly as I can on Friday, I close up shop and take myself off to experience something beautiful, interesting, or challenging at one of the many museums that neighbor my office. The Metropolitan Museum is a familiar favorite whose marble halls I have walked since childhood. The temporal and geographical scope of its permanent collections is breathtaking, and the current exhibitions always a marvel of creativity. I could spend the rest of my life mining the Met’s riches, giving myself an education that no university could match. And it would also take care of my travel, transporting me to places and times I have only dreamed of.