A Shiner Sounds Good Right About Now

I travel for work. I am gone usually about five weeks of the year split across the twelve months. It really isn’t too bad – other than the self-induced guilt I feel for leaving my ultra supportive husband and two sweet innocent children.

Life before this job was worse – I traveled probably 50% of the time. I could be on the road five weeks at a time only coming home on weekends to do laundry and fly out again. One time in what can only be described as utter absurdity, I was planning a show in Vegas and another client asked me to manage their show which was just a few days later in the same venue. I had already booked my travel for the first show so I investigated changing my hotel and flight for the second. It turned out it was cheaper to actually fly home and book a second ticket. So I flew home from the first show on Tuesday and turned around on Wednesday and flew back to Vegas and checked into the same hotel I checked out of the day before. Almost comical.

WOW – that was quite a tangent. Now back to our story. Being in the trade show business there is this phrase tossed around – “Code of the Road.” Essentially meaning “What happens in Vegas, Stays in Vegas.” I hate it. I know I am uptight but this goes beyond my uptightness. The way some of my colleagues behave on the road is embarrassing and disgusting. Am I judging? Absolutely. Just because you are on a trip for business without your spouse doesn’t mean your marriage vows don’t count. Just because the company is picking up the tab doesn’t mean you have to drink yourself to oblivion and be unable to function the next day at your JOB! I bring this up because it seems to be an expectation that we (those in the trade show business) go out and party while at a show.

I have just returned from 8 days on the road. Most of the staff went out on Friday to celebrate getting our show open but I chose not too. Chad asked me if I was the only fuddy duddy on the trip – for the record I was not. I didn’t go because I was spent. The week before I left, I worked long days and then at the show my days were generally 10 to 12 hrs long. At dinner (which was at 8pm after starting work at 7am), trying to psych myself up for going out so I wouldn’t be a killjoy, I found myself on the verge of tears. I wasn’t fighting back tears because something was wrong or my feelings were hurt. I was just tired. I could not dig deep enough to find the energy to go to the bar with the staff. I hated it but I just couldn’t.

One of our vendors confronted me. “Why don’t you drink? You never drink. Why don’t you ever drink?” I have to say I was stunned, pissed, and unsure of how to respond. I mumbled “I drink but I am just tired.” I sounded like some high school student trying to deflect peer pressure instead of replying with something like “what a crappy intrusive inaccurate ignorant question to ask jackass!” I was seething after that – what if I was an alcoholic? What if I had a medical issue? It wasn’t any of his freaking business.

But my beloved husband always helps me process. He pointed out that perhaps my over reaction to the question was because maybe the vendor hit too close to home. Chad said that while saying I never drink is not true – saying I rarely drink is completely accurate.

My first thought in my head after Chad’s statement was defensive – recalling a situation that happened in January at my last show where I did drink at the staff dinner and although I did not get drunk I still ended up throwing up in the sink (classy right?!) in my hotel room the next morning while trying to pack to head to the airport. Then as if I am being punished for my poor choice the evening before, I have to sit next to our director of HR on the flight home. She looked at me and said that I didn’t look well and maybe I was catching something. I tried to eat a bagel to keep my stomach in check but could only take one bite for fear of getting sick again. I passed out as soon as the flight took off – apparently another concerning fact for our HR director. It took me until nearly dinner time for my headache to go away.

I let this swirl and swish in my brain – rarely drinking – what is my deal? I am not against drinking (heck I am an Irish Catholic – I don’t know life without it!) and we have alcohol in the house. I have more than enough stupid drunk MK stories and if you slip Leigh Anne a $20 she will share them. But Chad is right – rarely do I have a beer with dinner or drink a cocktail. I have my business social drink – cranberry and vodka – that I will nurse all through the event/dinner/party. It is not very often that I will drink to a buzz and even rarer that I will get drunk.

I have been self analyzing and come up with this – 15% of my issue is functioning the next day and 85% of my issue is control.

The Next Day: On the road, I think this is completely understandable. I usually have to be on the floor by 7am the next day and being hung over is not fun. Even when I drink just a little, I usually drag and have a dull headache the next day so put that on top of tired makes for a crabby MK. Even at home, the idea of my children waking me up early keeps me sober.

Control: I think I have a need to be in completely control. I don’t know when this happened. Early in my career I would drink on the road – I even was one of those that showed up to work still buzzing from the night before (not proud of that mind you!) and now the thought of that horrifies me. Is it years in this industry that have jaded me? Is it watching people I respect make total idiots of themselves in front of employees and customers? Is it seeing a married person make out with someone they are not married to? Is it that I am too old? Do I not trust myself to keep from looking like a moron? While I can’t identify exactly what it is (I am sure Chad has an interesting take on this) I do know it is about control.

And those that say peer pressure to drink only happens in high school are full of crap. The pressure to drink while on a trip for me is unrelenting. Except now I think I have said no so often I may have actually beaten them down. That is until I get the question – Why don’t you drink? There is that moment where I want to show them I know how to do a shot or slam a beer. And then I think about what time I have to get up the next morning and politely decline.