Pump and Fly

I will preface the following story with this: the return to work is one thing, the return to work travel is quite another. While I love my job and the role I play at the company, it's never easy. Most days are high paced, high energy, and stressful ... then you add travel. 

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On Monday afternoon, I kiss my babies good bye and set off on my first corporate trip since last spring. 

30,000 feet in the air, I eat a Clif bar and some pretzels for dinner, then start worrying that the plane will crash and I will never see my family again. They'll be telling my story on the Today Show and weeping for the three kids and loving husband left behind. 

I return to reality as the plane comes to a screeching halt on the hilltop airport of Charleston, West Virginia. I can tell that I need to pump as quickly as possible.  

I pick up my compact rental car, perfect for the hilly, snowy conditions, and head down the mountain to my hotel. 

I wait behind a pushy over sized consultant with status asking to pull rank and get her much deserved upgrade. Carrie, a chubby, wide eyed receptionist with platinum blond hair and too much mascara politely tells her to call corporate because there are no upgrades available. If only Mary were there to explain, 'you get what you get, and you don't get upset.' 

I get a regular ol room and start unpacking, assembling and pumping. Finished. And oh crap ... where to put the milk? 

Hi Carrie. It's me again. I need a refrigerator 

... Oh you don't have any. Okay ... 

... Well, what do you suggest I do with my baby's milk? 

Five minutes later, I'm talking to Carrie in person. Carrie is now wearing glittery reindeer antlers and flirting with a custodian. The custodian asks if I want the milk in the fridge or freezer. I opt for the freezer and he tells me: ice cream freezer - we'll tell the morning crew. 

Great. 

In the morning, I attempt to cover my tracks, or rather the hair that has shed all over my room and bathroom. One of those lovely four month postpartum symptoms. 

I check out at the front desk. 

Hi, my name is Lo, checking out, also my breast milk is in your ice cream freezer. 

I grab the milk and compactly drive forty miles to meet the rest of my team in Huntington, West Virginia.

I drive past modest Christmas displays, billboards promoting Jesus as Lord, "Cheap Good Stuff" for sale, trailer parks, a nuclear power plant, bridges, icy rivers, hills, forests, snow, and small towns where fast food and Tudor's Biscuit World are the best options around. 

In Huntington, I learn the rules of our restaurant blitz, and then jump into a co-workers Tahoe, because thankfully he'll be driving from here on out. Several hours and restaurants in, I realize I'm not going to find a bathroom stall with an outlet, and I don't have batteries. So I ask to pump in the aforementioned Tahoe, which has an outlet in the back. My male co-workers wait inside and eat french fries till I'm done. 

It's a short trip. I'm back at the airport that evening, going through a security line with signage that recognizes Office Minks for finding and preventing a loaded hand gun from boarding a recent flight. "It's West Virginia after all," they tell me.  

In the gift shop which sells little animals made out of authentic West Virginia coal, I hear a customer tell the shop keeper, 'God Bless You.' I'm comforted and reminded why I love this part of my job. 

There's not much glamour in the fast food belts of America, but there are really good people; people that work hard, appreciate the little things, and pray for a little more.  

On one of my last restaurant visits of the day, I start talking to the pregnant girl at the front counter. She's due in January. She's very excited and getting impatient. As I leave I tell her to take care of that baby. She beams and assures me that she will. 

I pray for that baby as I tell her I have to go home to take care of mine.  

Lo.