Growing up, my dad was one of those "travel hackers." He knew his way around miles and points like the very best of them. So, despite being impoverished and one of many, many siblings, we traveled a bit — nowhere far, just going to New York for school or Seattle to visit my grandmother. Because of the "travel hacking," our flights were always a hot mess.
We'd fly halfway across the country in the wrong direction or take flights with three stopovers. And when we finally got to our destination, we would take buses, trains and walk to get to wherever we laid our heads. Travel would take all damn day and late into the night. Despite all this, I fell in love with traveling. But the hassle of getting to the destination? That still irks me to this day. As a fat person, traveling gets complicated.
