Recorded in the Courtyard Copley Square in Boston, this special edition pulls the best of the first year of TravelCommons. Starting with the “bathroom medley” — the roll call of all the hotel bathrooms that have served as TravelCommons’ recording studios, we move on to excerpts from stories on topics such as the TSA, unusual activities in airport departure lounges, scary hotel rooms, and ranting cab drivers. Here’s a direct link to the podcast file.
Here are the show notes from TravelCommons podcast #40:
- Intro music — Warmth by Makkina
- Recorded at the Copley Place Courtyard in Boston, MA
- Spent a few flights listening through the past 13 hours of TravelCommons episodes to select the “greatest hits” from the first year
- from T/C #1 – Why listen to this podcast?
- from T/C #33 – Listener feedback says that TravelCommons covers both the fun and the dreary bits of travel
- Medley of TravelCommons hotel bathroom studios
- from T/C #15 – Bad night at the Oakland Coliseum Days Inn
- from T/C #13 – Listener story about nighttime noises in a Korean hotel room
- from T/C #8 – Nervous night at the Golden Eagle Motel in Niles, Michigan
- Medley of TSA rants
- from T/C #37 – Episode of Fame breaks out in O’Hare
- from T/C #20 – Allan Marko tells a story about rapid airplane repair
- from T/C #18 – Pants problems
- from T/C #16 – A chatty seat mate
- from T/C #15 – Skymall magazine as a last resort
- from T/C #7 – Air sickness without the bag
- from T/C #34 – Behind shuffling snowbirds in Tampa
- from T/C #14 – Raging parking generalissimo at LAX
- from T/C #16 – Tactics for dealing with raging cab drivers
- from T/C #24 – Fun with rental cars
- from T/C #19 – Midnight car talk at the Taco Bell drive-thru
- from T/C #9 – Downshifting to leisure travel
- from T/C #17 – My kids’ view of travel
- Closing music — Pictures of You by Evangeline
- Feedback at comments[at]travelcommons.com, the comment board on podcastalley.com, or right here in the comments section below
- Direct link to the show
3 comments on “Podcast #40 – Looking Back Over The First Year”
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I started to write this from the Hampton Inn in Mebane NC, then I started over at the Comfort Suites in Baltimore MD and now I am starting over again from my lazy boy (they used to call it a barcalounger until I sat in it) from home. Great review of the first year, and we can all safely assume that you made at least Marriott “Gold” from the bathroom medley.
My first year on the road I took a picture of every hotel room I slept in and then made a PowerPoint (groan) how depressing was that to sit trough, this process stopped after the first year.
Somehow listening to someone else’s time on the road is not as depressing as reviewing your own. Keep up the podcasts and may you get all the upgrades you are entitled to, seriously.
P.S. my seat mate on the flight home last night was truly fascinated by the Harry Potter section of the Sky Mall magazine, weird. And by the way does anyone ever buy anything from Sky Mall?
I always enjoy your comments on the joys of encountering TSA folk, but for us non -US nationals our anti-heros must be the Immigration Officials. I thought you might enjoy the following extract from a piece by Jeremy Clarkson (the UK’s leading motoring journalist) which appeared in this week’s Sunday Times:
We begin at Los Angeles airport in front of an immigration official who, like all his colleagues, was selected for having no grace, no manners, no humour, no humanity and the sort of IQ normally found in farmyard animals. He scanned my form and noted there was no street number for the hotel at which I was staying.
“I’m going to need a number,†he said. “Ooh, I’m sorry,†I said, “I’m afraid I don’t have one.â€
This didn’t seem to have any effect. “I’m going to need a number,†he said again, and then again, and then again. Each time I shrugged and stammered, terrified that I might be sent to the back of the queue or worse, into the little room with the men in Marigolds. But I simply didn’t have an answer.
“I’m going to need a number,†he said again, giving the distinct impression that he was an autobank, and that this was a conversation he was prepared to endure until one of us died. So with a great deal of bravery I decided to give him one. And the number I chose was 2,649,347.
This, it turned out, was fine. He’d been told by his superiors to get a number. I’d given him a number. His job was done and so, just an hour or so later, I was on the streets of Los Angeles doing a piece to camera.
Dan –
Thanks for posting that story — it’s a great one. The only way that story would have been funnier is if he gave him pi (3.14159) as the number…. Yup, I’m sleeping safer at night knowing this Immigration guy is on duty.