Today started at the ungodly hour of 4 AM. After the usual morning routine, I hailed an Uber to the airport, kicking off my trip to Chilliwack, British Columbia. This is the less glamorous side of being a musician that often goes unmentioned. The journey was smooth—no major issues, no minor ones either. The real challenge? Enduring five hours in an airplane seat that seemed designed for discomfort, not humans.
In an age where we have artificial intelligence and robots exploring Mars, you'd think we could engineer a comfortable airplane seat. But no, I found myself squirming for a mere half-hour of restless sleep—if you can even call it sleep. When the pilot announced our descent, I felt like I'd been given a ticket to freedom.
Landing was just the beginning; we still had a three-hour drive and a border crossing ahead. I grabbed a protein bar, some beef jerky, and an overpriced, eco-friendly aluminum water bottle—because airport pricing never ceases to amaze me. Then we piled into the van for the drive to BC. Thankfully, we're not performing tonight.
The car ride was a peaceful respite, a stark contrast to the cacophony that often defines a musician's life. With a young child at home, these moments of silence are rare gems. I savored the tranquility, knowing that tomorrow we'll be making music, and the day after, it's back to New York.
They say you're not paid to make music; you're paid to travel thousands of miles away from your bed, your loved ones, and your daily life. This realization has been creeping up on me, especially as I find my love for travel waning with age. It's a sobering thought that adds another layer to the complexities of a musician's life.
So, how have your feelings about your job or career changed as you've gotten older? I'd love to hear your thoughts.