Here's how you know a frequent traveler from a once-a-year-holiday traveler.
The latter looks forward to their trip with nervous glee, pores over books about their destination, stocks up on gear, perhaps makes a list. Shares tips they've read. The latter prepares with interest and enthusiasm.
The former waits until the night before, then remembers they forgot to check the weather and shape of electrical outlets at their destination. Rummages through drawers in search of a passport. Wonders if it will matter that they didn't get any vaccines. Bristles at the inconveniences of getting to the airport, which in New York can be as long a trip as the actual flight. They might even complain to envious friends. "Ugh, I have to go to Europe tomorrow, what a pain in the @ss."*
The frequent traveler dreads the actual process of travel. Because the packing part is annoying, the actual travel itself dehumanizing and uncomfortable, and there are bound to be bumps along the way, but not the funny kind that make good stories. More like the kind where you have to wait in a lot of lines or sit very still for an interminable amount of time.
Think of how you feel about traveling the night before Thanksgiving. That's it. That's the simmering dread that I get before a trip.
Once I am on the plane, strangely, I forget completely about the dread, resign myself to holding still, and that's when I begin to get excited about my destination.
*File under "Things you can't complain about." Like looking good for your age or having too many parties to attend.