For the past few years, when Tom’s work takes him somewhere I’d like to see, I get my own plane ticket and tag along so we can be weekend tourists. The writing profession might never bring in the big bucks, but you can’t beat its portability. The second I slide my laptop into my luggage, my office can go anywhere.
So far, we’ve visited London, Toronto, Las Vegas, and Minneapolis. Much to my surprise as a certified homebody, these trips have not only been a fun way for us to see new things together, but they’ve also given me a wider range of experiences and insights to write about. (Did you hear that, IRS? They’re officially work trips now, so get ready for some write-offs.)
I drank hot tea and ate almond croissants in London. I saw the bare butts of several wait staff at a Las Vegas pool. And in Minneapolis, I learned it’s not only okay but also advisable to have “his and hers” elements of any vacation.
For example, while we were visiting his beloved home state of Minnesota, Tom wanted to spend an afternoon at Fort Snelling, a historic U.S. military fortification built in the early 1820s. As luck would not have it, an unusual heat wave hovered over the city that day, yet we soldiered on.
As soon as we arrived, a Fort volunteer told us a rifle demonstration would happen in 20 minutes. So, we visited a few buildings inside the Fort and then joined the group of tourists gathered for the gun demo. Before the first shots rang out, I grabbed the AirPods I’d tucked into my purse and pushed them into my ears. Tom raised an eyebrow, but I explained that the noise-cancellation feature would help dampen the loud sounds.
Once the shooting ended, the rifleman dove into a long explanation of the inner workings of an obsolete musket — information I doubted I would need in 2026. So, since the AirPods were already in my ears, I covertly reached into my purse, found my iPhone, and hit the play button on an audiobook.
For the next few hours, Tom and I leisurely walked all the way through the dusty old fort and its gift shop and museum. To an outside observer, I looked like a woman riveted by history. What appeared to be careful reading of historic plaques and thoughtful pondering of American history was actually me listening with rapt attention to the plot twist in Chapter 22. I did, however, pause the book for five minutes when we spotted a gopher roaming the grounds. He held still just long enough for me to snap his picture.
In the end, we both got what we wanted. Tom had plenty of time to soak up all the stories of gun battles and dysentery, and I got to see a gopher in person and read on vacation. Everybody won (except for the former Fort residents who tragically died of dysentery).
Since I’d been a good sport about touring a Fort on a 95-degree day, Tom suggested we go to the nearby Mall of America for some air-conditioned shopping. Twenty minutes later, we stepped through the doors of the largest indoor shopping and entertainment complex in the entire country — one so large that there’s an actual theme park with rides and roller coasters located at the center of it.
I wanted to roam around a makeup store in search of the perfect lipstick. Then I wanted to spend too much time inside the stationery shop, looking at fancy paper and pretty pens. Knowing these activities would likely put Tom into a coma, I released him to walk around the three-story mall so he could hit his daily goal of 10,000 steps. Fortunately, he had his own AirPods with him, so he could listen to history podcasts while he walked.
After we’d enjoyed our solo activities, we regrouped for dinner. We’d both had just enough time on our own to look forward to being together again during drinks and appetizers. It made me realize that traveling is so much better when you’re willing to carve out time for his, hers, and ours.
Gwen Rockwood is a syndicated freelance columnist. Email her at gwenrockwood5@gmail.com. Her books are available on Amazon.