Book Bingeing in Cleveland

When I was a kid, it felt like such a big deal to get on a plane.

My Dad did it once or twice a year, for palliative care conferences, and I remember how seismic the act of flying seemed – the hefty bag he’d drag out the door behind him, the pages of paperwork clutched in his palms, and the souvenirs he’d bring back for us. Meanwhile, whenever my Mom took a trip, she’d write my brothers and I different notes for every day of her absence – colorful, sticker-covered reminders of how much she loved us and how she couldn’t wait to see us soon.

This kind of travel – which required letter-writing, gift-shopping, and long stretches of out-of-touch time (this was before cell phones!) – felt so monumental and consequential. When I got on my first airplane at 13, I was surprised, upon my arrival in Florida, that I still felt like myself at all.

So it’s funny, given how I grew up, how my attitude towards travel has changed. This week, when I slid groggily into the backseat of a sedan at 4:45am for a day trip to Cleveland, carrying a bag no bigger than the one I typically take on the subway each day, it struck me: this trip bears no resemblance to the big-deal trips of my childhood memories. It’s just a long commute. And these frequent Cleveland commutes – the hop-on-a-plane-and-come-back-the-same-day trips – are so often just a blur of board rooms and security lines and Hudson News snack runs that there’s really no roaming involved at all.

But whenever I have an opportunity, I try to squeeze some in.

If I have an hour or two to spare between landing and my first meeting of the day, I’ll make a detour to Chagrin Falls, a Gilmore Girls-esque suburb that’s home to Fireside Books. Fireside is my most-frequented Cleveland book store for a reason – it’s bursting with small-town charm, it’s home to the spiral staircase of my dreams, and it has an incredible kids section. Plus the staff are so kind that they once kept the store open for me past closing so I could pick up one of my favorite baby books – Escargot! – for Finnegan.

And if my trip includes an overnight stay – and therefore luggage – I’ll save as much space as I can for a Horizontal Books haul. Named for its unusual sideways book-stacking method, Horizonal Books is shabby, dusty, and indiscriminately mixes literary fiction with MCAT study books and diet guides. But with a pricing model that gets better with every additional book you buy – one for 50% off the list price, two for 60% off, and three for 70% off – the deals on new books can’t be beat. I’ve never left this store without an armful of fantastic finds.

If I really have some time to spare, I get even more ambitious. Recently, I visited the main branch of the Cleveland Public Library, where one of my old Nestle clients is now CMO. I saw the world’s smallest book (over-rated), perused the world’s largest chess set collection (fascinating), and marveled at the high-ceilinged reading rooms overlooking Lake Erie (beautiful).

And then, my spare time up, I get back on a plane.