Last weekend, I experienced something which I don’t recall experiencing before in the 25-odd years it could have happened: I was last out of a few hundred people. It wasn’t a cause for concern, frustration or embarrassment (which, given my slightly competitive nature, might come as a shock); it wasn’t because of any failure on my part; and it wasn’t planned. It wasn’t hugely significant, and I’m sure it didn’t even register with a single other person in the place. Nevertheless, it was important.
Before: nerves, questions, cautious excitement. Will people be relaxed? Will they enjoy it? Is there anything we’ve planned that’s going to flop?
After: delight, relief, instant memories. People were relaxed, positive and in great spirits from beginning to end. Everything we planned seemed to work like a dream. And, just like that, the three days we had spent eleven months planning, passed.
Our first trip together across the Atlantic was in September 2005, a few short weeks after Hurricane Katrina grabbed the world’s attention. We started in Atlanta and had a rough idea that we were going to drive north-east ultimately towards Washington DC. The first two days of our road trip proved more surprising than we could ever have imagined!