People say “live a life with no regrets.” Somebody I saw recently said something like “no mistakes, only lessons.” I genuinely don’t know how I feel about any of that. Of course I have regrets. Maybe they’re mistakes. Are they all lessons? No, sometimes they’re just fuckups? I do know there’s a lot of stuff I didn’t do when I had the chance that I wish I’d done. And vice versa. This isn’t about the latter stuff though, mostly, and yes I talk to my therapist about how I dwell on some of these. I guess it all works out the way it’s “supposed to”, sliding doors (I’ve never seen the movie) and all that jazz (I’ve never seen the movie) but like, a few of the things I’m going to describe shortly would have been at least marginally better for the plot, you know? Just genuinely for the advancement of narrative, 15 degrees more interesting.    

The below are a totally absurd, real look at specifically some travels I’ve been on & the things I didn’t do but could have. Regrets about everyday life are a different volume of text. Privilege Acknowledgement: I have had the fortune to go to a lot of very cool places, sometimes of my own accord and sometimes at the invitation of others. Big ups to the Universe for giving me some rad times.

A big one is that in late 2011 when I bopped around vigorously, including Bruges & San Diego, I forgot to ask VodafoneNL to turn on my FREE Roaming option, so I, uuhhhh, ran up a $600-900 bill and had my service cut off because they “thought it’d been stolen.” Nevermind that they let that phone operate for a few weeks while “stolen.” It raises questions and it was a frustrating few days of travel from sunny San Diego back to rainy Nijmegen with minimal connectivity. I rolled in, jetlagged, to the downtown Vodafone store on a Monday morning to inquire WHAT GIVES. The CSRs were incredulous at my experience and I, theirs. They cut me a deal on the massive bill, which just leads to other questions! I associate Pinkberry with this fiasco.  

While I once got a haircut in Firenze, speaking in French, I wish I had taken the opportunity to get a haircut in Tbilisi, Georgia. I don’t know why that’s the only place I’ve been that I really wish I’d run that errand, other than that I recall I had a half-idea to do it but no followthrough, despite a few days to wander. (Lovely country, fun safe city. They love Americans! I learned very little Georgian to make my way around!)  

I don't regret missing a train in Germany, because I was drinking and reading A Pattern Language which I'd picked up from the contemporary art museum Kunstmuseum Stuttgart. At the train station I had to sheepishly explain to an employee that, because I was a silly tourist who didn’t know how to use the U-Bahn, I’d misunderstood my itinerary for a first class ticket and needed to rebook. He took pity on me and arranged it so that I didn’t have to pay 100 Euros. I hope he’s well.  

In Alaska in 2022, I pulled up to a pump near Talkeetna, and the previous gas-shopper had purchased $250.00 worth of fuel. I didn't take the 30 seconds to get my phone from our rental car and snap a photo. My memory will have to do, forever now. I always think of it as "just Alaska things.” How big was the tank? What kind of vehicle transported it?  

I stayed at a dismal little Airbnb apartment in Freiburg for half a week. While I was there, I puttered around town, ate ice cream, read Gary Shteyngart, rode the funicular, and felt feelings. I bought blood orange juice. I regret buying a big bottle because it turns out I don’t like blood orange juice. The apartment and the juice unnecessarily taint further the memory of what was otherwise a middling traveling experience. (It rained a bit more than I would have liked at least one day.) Notes from that trip include “The apartment’s okay but needs renovation. Is he a minimalist? Just always at his gf’s? A rental, but still why?”

Speaking of Airbnbs in surprising places, I visited Lelystad, Flevoland for 24 hours. While I was there I biked into Natuurpark Lelystad but really should have gotten myself to the much-ballyhooed Oostvaardersplassen which wasn’t far away at all! I could have gotten an imdb credit with horse farts! 

I regret not packing underwear when my family traveled to Disneyworld in 1992. That was foolish and I have mostly learned my lesson. Perhaps this informs future parenting choices I make when we travel with Marigold, but that’s a long way off.

When I went to Utah for a few days in late 2019 to deliver a keynote & teach a workshop to UUtah postdocs, I regret not renting a car and tacking on a few days to go exploring Arches National Park or anything near SLC. My friend Rob had repeatedly encouraged me to do this, and in retrospect, I was unlikely to get this opportunity again the following year. Sorry, Rob. You were right.  

Similarly, when I had a ~36 hours business trip to Houston in 2018 I regret not knowing beforehand that a dear childhood friend lives in the metropolitan area, running horse therapy and adopting stray dogs.  I learned this literally in the airport as I was leaving.  

Some friends and I went to Toronto in Summer 2008 from Rochester to see an Adam Green concert. (Tim Fite opened. Love Tim Fite.) A LOT happened in the span of about 24 hours there, but I do rather regret having a few too many Mill Street Stock Ales at the concert venue. I could have eaten dim sum the day after the concert but my hangover was so much nausea I could only have ginger ale. A bad choice!!! I also moosh this memory up with a trip back from Baltimore/DC (Young Alumni Weekend, presumably, and then a night at Dave & Kat’s) where poor Dr. Sara F. had to drive a very messy Neil & a probably-not-hungover Kevin D. all the way up to Rochester.  

Going back to Tbilisi. I wasn’t unfamiliar with field recordings but it didn’t occur to me for quite some time that I could just do them on my phone. My hosts and I had dinner at a subterranean restaurant about 2 days into our trip, which just sent me on a psychedelic journey, and a small group sang traditional, well, Georgian songs while sitting around the table. I wish I’d recorded the singing. I later asked around the web for what songs they likely were singing but nothing people suggested sounded quite right. Relatedly, on the flight out of Georgia, I encountered a bunch of English-speaking birdwatchers, senior citizen fellas from the UK, and got a thrill from hearing them talking about their adventures. I got curious about birds in the 2020s and ohhhh how I wish I’d been tracking even the most common birds I saw when I was wandering around Europe 15 years ago. (Merlin didn’t launch until 2014, a year after I left my Europe life, so there’s that.)

Some of this newsletter led me down rabbit holes I hadn’t been down in a while, and I’m reinvigorated to work on my workshop about digital footprints inspiring creativity. Plus, I’ve gotten some fodder for future newsletters. Might I send more than one this summer? Oh, don’t hold your breath, little ones. (But seriously I’ve got a fun guide to THINGS that I’m whipping up that I COULD shop around for publication but you’ll get it first because, like so many of my ideas, I’m making metaphorical dinner out of what I have available when I can.)
  

Reading

It’s helpful that my friends’ Discord server has a channel called “Neil’s links” where I now drop links i want us to all read. I’ve recently ended my decades-long New Yorker subscription but have started supporting Ravenous, a worker-owned collective dedicated to food writing.

Some articles I’ve enjoyed or found provocative, my titles not theirs: What’s up with Chili’s? Ugh, adulting is made to be hard isn’t it. Elan from Philly runs a cool class about escaping the algorithm, here’s a primer. I can’t finish anything for lots of reasons, The New Yorker, and I can barely start my backlog of your issues. Everybody’s got a cruise even Modest Mouse?Costco and grief huh. Everybody’s into physical media but nobody was actually into MiniDisc except briefly me at college for theater stuff.

Eating

Vientiane in West Philly was fantastic for a date night. Kelsey & I also got to Osaka in Collingswood for a memorable birthday hibachi, we’ll be back. I met group chat fellas and colleague pals at Dim Sum House, Greek Lady, Koreana, TingTing’s, and Ember & Ash. I somehow ended up at the Philly Navy Yard’s Gatehouse twice. It provides food and drink in a convenient location, that’s for sure! Don’t sleep on Dienner’s at Reading Terminal Market for chicken. If you find yourself near Cobbs Creek and need a business lunch or a cheeky pint, the Little Horse Tavern is worth a detour. New on my Philly breakfast sandwiches list: Lee’s Vine Food. Marigold and I ate charming pastries at Majdal Bakery. Portland highlights included: Tabor Bread, Fried Egg I’m In Love, Screen Door.

I feel like I’ve made three recipes in the past six months: a Chipotle honey vinaigrette knockoff for crockpot pulled chicken, Erin Loves Whole’s sheet pan lemon feta chicken, and the New York Times oven chicken shawarma. (Don’t read too much into the three chickens.)

I keep buying snacks and weird versions of pantry items from Martie. It’s like if Sprouts and the food section of HomeGoods had a Shopify problem.

Beating

The new Gorillaz album was… fine. Their first album will always remind me of a road trip in mid-September 2001 from Baltimore to Berks County. For reasons forgotten now I blasted this wild ragga playlist a bunch. I’ve also been on a mental kick of 90s jam bands (but, like, different than usual) and came across this playlist.

Deleting

I’ve weeded a few books. We’ve passed some baby clothes and items along. I’ve got big plans, you know, checklists in Google Keep.

Retreating

We had a Portland (Oregon) trip planned in November. That got scotched due to a fever in the household, and we rescheduled it for spring break. This meant that Kelsey, Marigold, and I had a long journey west (flying via Dallas! That’s in Texas!) but got a rich four full days with our friend Nikki. We bopped through absurdly well-forested playgrounds, drank obscene amounts of coffee, and ate at a farmer’s market, naturally. In a fun turn of events, I got to see Kristen Schier perform improv which led to brunch with her & her husband Milkshake the next day, Easter morning. (This makes sense to some of you.)  

In late April, we did two nights in Chappaqua NY for a bar mitzvah, which is how you know I am more middle-aged than ever. It was exceedingly pleasant to sit around a hotel room with college friends and their families and chat over crab rangoon and several drinks. We staged readings of emails we received 20 years ago. We watched our baby monitors.

Sometimes I talk here about videos, films, what have you that I’ve watched. I really can’t say enough how much I enjoy the goofy videos of “Chloe and sometimes Ludvig.”

I’ve been to way more playgrounds than to nature preserves of late.

Meeting

Look for a parenting-related essay of mine over at Broad Street Review later in June. Plus, a WHYY radio storytelling project I worked on will hit the airwaves in the next few weeks. 

Do you have regrets about reading this newsletter? Don’t tell me! Did you ever forget to pack undies? Do you know something about Georgian folk music? Are you backing up your data?

As Marigold would say when she leaves a room, “Baaah”
Neil

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