Confessions of a Fifth-Place Road Warrior
Being compared to Bridget Jones does nothing for
the ego (not to mention your love life), but the last year has been
a great ride.
They called us the talent.
The 2005 Ultimate Road Warrior finalists - Andy, D.J., Amie, Ben,
and I -
received the coveted call in September. They welcomed the message
with the same joy that comes when balloons and a guy from
Publishers Clearing House shows up on your front doorstep. But for
me, it was different. Unlike the others, I had been vying for the
URW title for two years. In my effort to be supreme, I had kept
every boarding pass, read every Road Warrior-related article I
could get my hands on, and spent hours recording relatively mundane
observations from my life on the road. My drawers were filled with
scribbled notes, newspaper clippings, and old editions of
American Way. Dog-eared pages and worn
covers aside, I looked to them for inspiration. You see, in 2004 I
was a Top 20 finalist. But I came up short on a question related to
the Tom Hanks film
The Terminal - and I was
determined not to let URW greatness elude me again.
I knew 2005 would be my year.
My plan was simple: I'd win the contest, be whisked off to some
fabulously tropical place for photographs and interviews, and then,
with my newfound fame and glory, I'd quit the job responsible for
putting me in the road-warrior category in the first place and run
off to
Italy in search of the Tuscan sun for a few months (or maybe
even a year). With a million AAdvantage miles and two million
Hilton HHonors points, the opportunities were endless.
The phone call came - "You're a winner!"
the voice on the other end exclaimed. "Third place!"
To this day, that conversation haunts me. How could I miss again?
After all, I was the epitome of a road warrior. I practically lived
at SFO (San Francisco International Airport); my distressed
carry-on bags proved it. I had even given up hope of getting a date
in my neighborhood and had set my sights on finding a cute
Transportation Security Administration agent in Terminal 3. And
there I was … third place. Ugh.
Well, they called it third place, but I was skeptical. After all,
there were three third-prize winners, and in that group were Amie,
a career contest entrant fresh off an all-expenses-paid trip she'd
won in a joke-telling contest, and Ben, a witty chap who worked for
an airline food-service firm. So while some say it's a hunch, I
have a keen sense for the obvious and am pretty sure this simple,
single-girl Road Warrior came in fifth. (So much for running off to
Italy with my million miles.)
Still, how could I not be excited? While I'm a bit of a
perfectionist, I'm certainly not crazy. Let's face it, a photo
shoot in
Hawaii … a stylist … a makeup artist … professional
photographers and the magic of retouching - it's the stuff girls
dream of. Especially single ones like me.
"Aloha!"
We were greeted by editor
Sherri Burns and the rest of the
American Way crew at Waimea-Kohala Airport
on the
Big Island of Hawaii. Swept away in a stretch SUV limo
complete with a blue neon glow emanating from underneath, we knew
it was the start of something wonderful. And later, after my
celebratory piña colada with everyone in the hotel bar, I was sure
this was a life-altering experience in motion. Besides, Sherri was
convinced my Mr. Right was flying
American Airlines and that he'd
surely write in to ask for my phone number. More than three million
readers a month, she told me. Six million eyeballs - many of them
belonging to men. While I may not have ended up with the grand
prize, these odds were in my favor.
The Road Warrior issue of
American Way
landed in AA seat pockets on December 15, 2005. It marked the
beginning of what I'd thought would be a flood of phone calls and
e-mails from high school friends, former colleagues, and, of
course, ex-boyfriends who, seeing my Hollywood-style photographs,
would regret the moment we had bid adieu. My 15 days of fame were
upon me, and I was ready. (A word of wisdom to the 2006 Road
Warrior grand-prize winner, Jaime Vogel, who got my vote this year:
When you're a professional packer and travel for a living, not even
Match.com can help in the dating department.)
• if you sense a sudden surge in popularity immediately after being
named one of the road warriors, stay calm and don't let it go to
your head. chances are it's just a plethora of friends vying for
that "plus one" status on your all-expenses-paid trip to hawaii for
the photo shoot. choose wisely.
• being called the talent does not warrant tantrums or unsolicited
complaints about the clothes they've picked for you, the amount of
hair spray they douse you with, or the bachelor-esque design of
your photo shoot. when you're
american
way's top model, you do what you're told to - on the runway
and off. you get up at the crack of dawn if the sun is right for
photos. you smile when they say to smile. you chug that margarita
when they say to chug (and you'd better chug it quickly, or sherri
will order another one and make you try again!).
• after being professionally primped by a stylist, a makeup artist,
and a hair guru, do not be surprised if the man next to you in seat
9a doesn't say anything when he flips past your photo in
american way. you won't look like you do in
real life - which means few people will recognize you.
• teased hair, heavy makeup, a low-cut top, a killer pair of manolos, three tuxedo-clad waiters, chocolate, and champagne screams high maintenance. it’s no wonder mr. right didn’t come calling with a long-stemmed rose. after all, in real life, i’m a jeans-and-flip-flops kind of gal.
• while being named a winner is certainly a crowning achievement, being profiled as “our very own bridget jones” is the kiss of death.
• when your road warrior photo and comparison to bridget are just a few keystrokes away, blind dates are no longer blind. on a similar note, when your potential suitor calls the evening before the big date and says, “so, i’ve been doing a bit of reconnaissance …,” cancel.
• when an online dating site matches you to a guy claiming to be the poster child for continental airlines, don’t bother. it won’t work.
• if you receive a letter that begins, “this is a random letter, so forgive me — but i read your profile on aa and wanted to say hi,” resist the urge to think stalker! and give the guy a chance. while he may be geographically undesirable, his could be the only fan mail you’ll ever get.
• if a stranger approaches and claims to recognize you from the magazine as “the one who has no life, no home, and who obviously needs a new job,” it’s probably time to make some serious changes in your life.
so that’s what i did — made some changes. in what became a whirlwind year, i moved from
san francisco to new york, traded in my road-warrior job, and have just returned from a few weeks in glorious italy. now i work out of a real office (not a virtual one), and unless someone at
american way can pull a few strings, i won’t even make platinum status this year.