The not-so-subtle art of getting to the airport seven hours early
How to find confluence
. . . to be an effective remote worker, particularly on the go, one must master the practice of putting oneself in places conducive to work — generally for hours at a time.
Hey reader,
This week, I’m coming to you from Istanbul Airport, which immediately catapulted itself to the top of my list of favorite airports. The lounge accessible via Priority Pass has a chef preparing fresh Pide, for one thing, and the departures board reads like a rundown of the world’s coolest cities.
I’m en route to the Tian Shan mountains of northern Kyrgyzstan for a week-long splitboard expedition with tour operator 40 Tribes. I originally booked this trip three years ago, and we all remember what happened that year — after two postponements due to Covid and a third canelation, this time on my part due to the birth of my daughter, the trip is finally coming to fruition.
I’m moving the “community shoutouts” section to the bottom of the dispatch this week. That’s because I ran an ad in Tim Leffel’s Nomadico newsletter and want to warmly welcome the 73 new subscribers over the past few days — I’m so glad you’re here! (totally serious about the free beer offer, by the way)
This newsletter is all about outdoor adventure, remote work, and sustainable living/travel optimization. I attempt to add something fresh to the remote work conversation that goes deeper than all of the cookie-cutter “how to become a digital nomad” blogs.
The only promise I make here is that you will never receive a newsletter selling you a lifestyle as a product (i.e., “how to become a digital nomad”). This newsletter is for those already pursuing their desired lifestyle.
I love hearing your thoughts and ideas. At any point now or in a future dispatch, feel free to hit “reply.”
Before we get into today’s essay, a bit about myself.
Who am I?
My name is Tim Wenger. I live with my wife and 15-month-old daughter in the beautiful little town of Palisade, at the foot of the Rockies on Colorado’s western slope. I’m a freelance journalist — my two primary contracts are editing with Matador Network and Static Media — and a dedicated snowboarder and splitboarder who enjoys traversing the globe in search of fresh lines.
I also cohost a podcast called “No Blackout Dates” that features commentary from adventure travelers, many of whom are fellow writers, discussing current events and the state of travel (last year, we sold the rights of the show to Matador, though we still plan, execute, and host each episode).
Mountain Remote focuses each week on either remote work or outdoor adventure in the high country, sometimes both, and often with a heavy dose of futurism (because this lifestyle is setting the tone for the future).
Now, let’s move on (for more about me, see here).
The not-so-subtle art of getting to the airport seven hours early
Let’s talk about my anxiety. I am a person who regularly shows up at the airport seven hours early. It happened yesterday, in fact. Headed out on the biggest snowboard trip I’ve ever taken and worried that I wouldn’t have enough time to feel comfortable, I lugged a Patagonia Black Hole duffel, my snowboard travel bag, a backpack, and myself onto the A-Line train to Denver International Airport bright and early.
Here’s the thing: The reason I showed up at the airport at 9 am when my flight wasn’t until 4 pm isn’t that I’m some sort of paranoid, security-line-fretting worry-wort (I have Global Entry, anyhow).
Rather, it’s that no matter where I go, I’ve conditioned myself to maximize the amount of time I have to spend in places that have both ample seating with lumbar support, and good Wi-Fi. Airports tend to meet both of those criteria.
You see, to be an effective remote worker, particularly on the go, one must master the practice of putting oneself in places conducive to work — generally for hours at a time. In this case, I had calls scheduled at 11 and 1:30, with a story to edit in the remainder of the time before boarding began.
I reasoned that if I could get my bags checked and get into the United Lounge by 10 am, I’d have enough time to push through an entire workday. Fortunately, the United rep allowed me to check my bags in more than six hours early, which has proven an issue in the past — resulting in me posting up at a pre-security coffeeshop to work with a bag or two of outdoor gear at my feet.
The need to optimize days that contain both work and travel is one reason I chose to take an inter-city bus service (Bustang, not Greyhound) from Grand Junction to Denver rather than driving or trying to hitch a ride with someone — on the bus, I was able to turn the six-hour journey into a productive work session rather than blank “window time.” (see this post for a deep dive on remote work and public transit).
Couldn’t you just take the day off?
I could, but there’s no need to.
In over a decade of remote work, the most effective and efficient of those whom I’ve met along the way have mastered the practice of taking their work with them. Of integrating it with the rest of their life’s important aspects in a manner that doesn’t build walls between them. This often requires a radical rethinking of the traditional “workday.”
The biggest perk of the “future of work” as the scene calls it is its asynchronous, freeform structure. Without a rigid schedule provided by an employer, the remote worker must create their own framework from scratch.
I’ve found that, at least for me, places like airport concourses, coworking spaces, and cafes provide solid structural support for that framework not just due to their Wi-Fi but also because of the way they integrate with their community. Each caters to a customer whose destination and thoughts are beyond the walls in which they currently find themselves. Each is conditioned to give you what you need so that you can be on your way.
When on the road, the scenario described above could also be applied to train stations or hotel lobbies, among other spots.
The result is a more seamless blend of work-life balance. Rigidity and separation are replaced with confluence. The user can move quickly or slowly. A properly executed day puts time on their side. And hey, if that results in a super-early airport check-in, so be it.
As noted, and as you can likely tell by now, I do have a bit of anxiety about travel day timelines. I do want to get through security, not because I’m worried about the time it will take but rather because it’s simply not an enjoyable process — even when my shoes remain on. On the other side, coffee and snacks are abundant and the Wi-Fi is dependable.
I find calm in such settings.
I also find that I’m better able to focus on work when the day’s other tasks — in this case, getting to the airport and through security — are behind me. There’s nothing else to stress about or plan for.
Contrary to the title of Tim Ferriss’ magnum opus, working only four hours per week is simply not possible for the vast majority of remote workers (or non-remote workers, for that matter). Automation and outsourcing are valuable tools — when paired with the optimization of one’s own time.
Community shoutouts and further reading
Since we now have plenty of other Tim Leffell and Kevin Kelly fans among us, check out this interview with Kevin on my podcast, where he discusses his “Vanishing Asia” project and many other important works.
I’d also like to share a few other Mountain Remote dispatches that run a similar course:
That’s all for now — see you next time!