Several years ago, I was on a flight to Washington, D.C., alongside dozens of travel agents headed to the nation's capital for an industry conference. It was a weird mix of people and patterns: I spotted not one but two floral Tommy Bahama shirts layered under blazers.
My seatmate was a 65-year-old former preschool teacher, who had launched a small travel agency with her wife after retiring. The travel agent had brassy highlights and a Boston accent. The cautionary absolutes in which she spoke — like "Never get a tattoo after-hours in Tokyo," or "Palm Springs fortune tellers are the least skilled in their profession" — sounded as though they were grounded in uniquely personal experiences.
