In just over a week, I’ll mark my five-year anniversary since I wrote this post journaling the start of my ice show career. That’s five years that I’ve been living out of two 50-pound suitcases (or less), working across five different continents and 43 US states. Now, I barely resemble the person I was when I graduated university. Most of my personal growth has come from traveling, performing in live shows, living with a tour family, and simple aging into my late 20s.
Yet I can’t ignore the ways in which living on the road makes me different from my friends who have settled down. And hopefully, any roadie or fellow performer who reads this list can relate.
1) There’s no such thing as “home.” Before my parents moved about two years ago, going back to the house where I grew up felt like visiting a museum of a life I used to live. Then when my parents moved, I realized I was living in a home that they’ve built
without me, not a place where I can nestle in. Whenever I get off the road and find my new place is where I’ll find my “home.”
But can a place really feel like “home” if my tour family isn’t there to share it with me?
2) I barely have any souvenirs that aren’t photographs. With a weight limit of 100 pounds for 8 months (or more!) at a time, I just can’t afford the space for a Starbucks or Hard Rock mug from every city I visit. Plus, once I bring it to my parents’ place, I don’t want to live under the clutter of all of those souvenirs. For a while I tried to collect keychains from places that influenced me, but they’re much less durable than I thought and I now travel the fragments in the pockets of my backpack.
3) I have no idea how to do a cosmetic “day look” anymore. There’s my “travel day” look, which is some moisturizer, glasses so I can squeeze in a 10-minute nap here and there, and French braids so I can rest my hair against a headrest and so I can hide the drool that seeps in when my head droops at a 45-degree angle.
As a show girl, I have a “neutral” makeup look, which I create with this train of thought: “Well, minimum I need two layers of foundation. Then just a dab of mascara, which of course needs some thick eyeliner underneath. No, a bit more than that — gotta make up for all the natural lashes I’ve ripped out wearing fake eyelashes during shows. Maybe just a bit of bronzer all over my face and neck just so I look well-rested. And of course I can’t go out without contouring my cheeks. Same goes for filling in my eyebrows. May as well add in a smidge of blush and eyeshadow. Does ‘ruby red’ look like I’m not wearing any lipstick at all?”
On the other hand, when it comes to my hair, most people are used to seeing me with a sweaty ponytail fresh from a wig cap, so a freshly shampooed look is fancy on me.
4) I don’t eat at restaurants on special occasions anymore. I used to consider going to Olive Garden on my birthday was a treat, or that ordering pizza meant I was having a significant party. Since I don’t have a kitchen on the road, most of my meals during the week are at restaurants, be they Subway, a cafe, or a local sit-down restaurant. Now when I want to celebrate my birthday, anniversaries, or family get-togethers, I prefer
home-cooked meals or potlucks if they’re available.
(Since I do eat at so many restaurants, I’ve been sharing my experiences by reviewing restaurants across North America. You can check out some of my reviews at tourbites.wordpress.com.)
5) My fashion choices are repetitive. I was never fashion-forward, but before I joined tour I could put together 20 different T-shirt-and-jeans combinations before doing a load of laundry. Now, I rely on six different shirts that I like the best and only a handful of skirts or dresses. There’s not much variety in my wardrobe, and even when I visit home I keep most of my clothes tucked away or else I donate them.
6) I’m addicted to candles. Keeping one scent that I enjoy everywhere I go helps me create a familiar space. I have air fresheners and sprays that create artificial scents for each season, but my favorite method is traveling one extra large candle that I can slowly burn every city. That way, I know that when I smell “pink sands,” I’m smelling whatever I can call home that week.
7) I’m more outgoing. Before tour, “going out” was a whole ordeal for which I had to mentally and physically prepare myself. On tour, we’ll come back from work at 9:30 pm and we’ll have to race to make it to a restaurant or a bar before it closes its kitchen so we can have dinner. That means little to no time to have a shower, and certainly no time to wash and style my hair. Well, I’m already at a bar, may as well have a drink with my meal. And a dozen of my coworkers are here at the bar too because this is the only place to eat within walking distance. Just like that, I’ve “gone out.” Even if I wanted to stay in that night, hearing everyone bouncing around hotel rooms like a college dorm keeps me awake until 1 am anyway, so I may as well join them.
There’s nothing wrong with being a homebody or embracing introversion. Once I hang up my skates, I’ll probably do both. Yet my life on the road is a lifestyle that makes the years fly by, and adapting to it is the only way I’ve survived most of my 20s with this job.