It's OK to Travel By Yourself

I consider myself a pretty independent person. I'm okay doing most things alone, sometimes I even prefer it. I don't mind getting food or going out to a movie on my own. I think taking time by yourself, for yourself is a form of self-love. 

Recently, however, I was presented with a fortunate opportunity to travel alone to New York City. This whole story is going to sound like the most first-world situation you've ever heard, so here's your warning: feel free to bail out... now! 

You're still here? Ok, cool.

A couple of weekends ago, I was in D.C. with my mom, lobbying senators and representatives on behalf of the American Association for Justice. We were originally supposed to fly home on the Saturday before Memorial Day, my mom would head back to California and I would journey back to Utah. Yay... Don't get me wrong, there's nothing wrong with Utah, it was more of the inevitable responsibility and stress accompanying my return that weighed me down. 

So, instead of adulting and heading back home, I reached peak millenial status: I decided to make a last minute change of plans and buy a train ticket from Union to Penn Station, and cancelled my flight from D.C. to SLC, for NYC.

Praise be to the Southwest gods who allow for last minute flight transfers. I swapped my flight for a Monday morning departure out of Le Guardia, snagged a killer Midtown hotel deal off of Priceline, and proceeded to panic. 

I wish I was joking when I said I panicked, but I actually pressed the "submit payment" button on my Priceline hotel confirmation, then proceeded to lock myself in the bathroom and started hyperventilating. Was I absolutely insane? Probably. I'd never traveled overnight anywhere without a companion, let alone traveled to one of the biggest cities in America. No one could come rescue me if there was an emergency, I had no safe haven to escape to if things got too crazy. I'd never stayed in a hotel alone before, I'd never taken a three-hour train ride before, I'm a 21-year old woman and my life experience could fit in a thimble. That's exactly why I needed to travel alone. 

I boarded the train at Union Station and quickly realized travel by locomotive is my preferred form of transportation. The hours passed by quickly as I snacked on sour gummy worms and stared out the window, catching glimpses of Pennsylvania and New Jersey along the way.

I made it out of the train station with only one minor incident, tripping over myself on the broken escalator and temporarily losing my luggage to gravity. I masked my nervousness with an overcompensating grin and hailed a taxi, because haven't you heard? I'm a real New York woman now. HAH. 

I got to my hotel safe and sound, checked-in without a hitch, dropped off my luggage and made a beeline for the nearest Magnolia Bakery. The next day, I got up at the crack of dawn to wait in line for tickets to Dear Evan Hansen. Before the matinee, I stumbled into what happened to be one of the most popular Italian restaurants in Times Square. I saw the musical and cried more millenial tears (an inflated currency in the U.S., I'm told). I walked through a farmer's market on the way back to my hotel and grabbed a lemon poppyseed donut to go. That night I stood in line for Shake Shack with my childhood celebrity crush. Guys, my NYC visit was delicious and delightful. 

Now, I know I got very lucky with my New York experience. Every stranger I met was exceptionally nice. The cashier at Magnolia in Grand Central told me he liked my yellow pants, even though he was really thinking "This poor, lost girl cannot convince me with her strained smile that she is even remotely put-together right now." The wait staff at Carmines let me sit at the bar, while the bartender made me a sandwich, even though they don't usually take parties of one. I met some of the kindest people in line for Dear Evan Hansen who shared snacks and stories with me while we waited. I know that not everyone's solo travel stories will end up this way. 

I also know that I only traveled to NYC. I didn't travel internationally, I didn't have to worry about speaking a different language. I know there are different safety precautions that need to be taken in advance for trips like those. Those experiences will be different, but I could argue that the value of traveling alone is the same.

What's the appeal of traveling by yourself? Well, for me it was the control. I struggle with control because I'm a people-pleaser and a perfectionist, a wicked combination. (Unfortunately, not the Boston "wicked," like "wicked cool," but the witchy "wicked" like curses, evil spells, etc.) There are so many great things about travel that are in your control, but you also learn flexibility on a more personal scale. The only person who can help you figure out things out when they go south, is you. It is risky, it is a little bit dangerous, but honestly I needed more of that. 

If you're indecisive, like me, traveling alone is an exercise in agency. In a very selfish way, it's cathartic because everything is your choice. You decide what your itinerary will be, you decide where to eat, who to talk to, when to stop. It's uncomfortable, it's a little bit scary, but it's so fun. I got lost a couple of times, but I was on my own schedule so I never felt rushed. I developed a close relationship with my Google Maps app. I stretched my comfort zone so that now it includes new places, people, and so many new foods. 

Should we discount travel buddies all together? Never! Travel buddies are great and sometimes essential for our sanity and safety. I just think we, as young women especially, should be OK with traveling solo. We can take risks, we can be comfortable by ourselves, and when Nat Wolff stands behind us in line at Shake Shack we can confidently order a bacon cheeseburger, a malt shake, a lemonade, and two orders of fries. Because that's just who we are now.