It Ain't Easy Being Green

As I’ve already mentioned, Salt Lake City now marks the western boundary of my life’s travels. But the trip itself held more firsts – the strange and the funny.

It was my first time using the bathroom on an airplane. I was prepared for that sucking vortex toilet by my cruise ship experience, but just getting up and walking on the plane was a really new sensation. And then there was being closed into that little closet while the plane shimmied its way through the Rockies.

It was my first real business trip – aside from the Innerbanks excursion. My first professional conference, rife with nametags and keynote speakers and complicated A/V equipment.

In Park City, I ate duck. Never eaten duck before, which is surprising since I am fond of exotic meats. I’ve had bison and antelope and elk, but somehow, never duck.

Usually a bit of a nervous Nelly in unknown territory, I never once felt anxious navigating the streets of Salt Lake City. Of course, my traveling companion had a stellar laid back attitude about exploring the city, but still – first time at ease in a strange place.

And for the most part, I enjoyed these firsts and overlooked the awkwardness of being a greenhorn. At times, though, I felt tense about my inexperience. I spent ten minutes on the plane gauging the distance to the different bathrooms, not wanting to appear as though I didn’t have a sense of the closest one. And then other times, I felt like firsts were being foisted upon me for the sake of it – like being forced to buy a certain kind of candy that I had never had. And during the discussions of places we’d traveled, I became automatically discounted. Dismissed with, “Well I know Ashley hasn’t…”

The circle of my life, while comforting and familiar, does breed a certain degree of dissatisfaction over the things it excludes. All the Ashley Hasn’ts live outside its safe boundaries – risks and adventures and possibilities. I think that very circle is part of what kept me from being any good at creative nonfiction because it enclosed a life devoid of the kind of interest nonfiction essays are made of. After all, my simple suburban upbringing reflected the suburbs themselves, my experiences as mundane and predictable as strip malls and chain restaurants and cookie-cutter neighborhoods.

Not that I'm looking to trade - being green has its advantages, too. Like a real appreciation for the simple things I've never done before and a sense of awe and wonder that a more experienced life might have erased. Nonetheless, the grass is greener on the other side of being green, and whatever comfort there may be in sameness, the unknown looks better all the time.