Why I Can’t Sleep in Airports Anymore (And Other Things 40-Year-Old Me Won’t Do)

Here’s what travel at 40 actually looks like: I’ve slept in a lot of airports. Past tense.

Christchurch, Melbourne, Berlin. A few others I’ve successfully blocked from memory. The Christchurch one was special, though – not because of the 6 AM flight I was trying to catch, or the money I was saving by skipping a hostel and taxi. It was special because halfway through the night, while I was cocooned in my sleeping bag on the terminal floor, the entire building started shaking.

The 2011 earthquake hit while I was lying there. The floor rolled. The walls creaked. As someone grew up in a country with almost zero natural disaster, It was not fun to go through, at all.

I was 25. Sleeping in airports seemed like a reasonable travel strategy. Earthquakes were scary but I survived. Everything was fine.

Fast-forward to now, and I can’t even imagine it.

Not the earthquake part – though that too. But the sleeping-on-an-airport-floor part. My back hurts just thinking about it.

The Accommodation Awakening

It’s not that I’ve gone soft. (Okay, maybe a little soft.) It’s that I’ve gone employed. Self-employed, specifically. Which means I have client calls. Which means I need reliable WiFi. Which means I can’t just show up somewhere at 6 PM, discover every budget hotel is fully booked because of some festival I didn’t know about, and spend the night sitting upright in a 24-hour McDonald’s waiting for sunrise.

Yes, I did that once. No, I will not be doing it again.

These days, I book accommodations in advance. Not months in advance, I’m not that reformed, but at least a few days. Enough time to confirm that yes, there is WiFi, and yes, it actually works, and no, I won’t be conducting a client meeting while crouched in a stairwell trying to catch a signal.

Because here’s the thing about travel at 40 and when you’re a digital nomad: you can’t afford to wing it. Bills don’t pause just because you’re having an adventure. Clients don’t care that you’re in a charming guesthouse with no internet. The romantic vision of disconnecting for two weeks and living off-grid – the kind of trip I used to take in New Zealand, camping in places with no cell service for days at a time – is now filed under “Things I Miss But Can’t Afford.”

These days, I filter by ‘WiFi’ before I even look at photos. If the listing doesn’t mention good WiFi or someone complains about it, I’m not booking it.”

The Safety Shift

I also don’t hitchhike anymore unless I feel super super safe in that area.

Not because I think hitchhiking is inherently dangerous — I had some great experiences doing it in my 20s including Couchsurfing (which I’ll still do!). But because I’m no longer operating under the blissful ignorance that made it feel totally fine. I’ve learned enough about the world to know that “probably fine” and “definitely fine” are not the same thing, and at 40, I’m pickier about my odds.

So now I plan transport ahead of time. I look up bus routes. I check if there’s a train. Well sometimes book a taxi in advance, now that we have Uber that can show me the fees are within my budget, without me having to haggle as a single woman.

It’s not about being scared. It’s about being tired. Tired of the mental load of figuring things out on the fly. Tired of the adrenaline spike that comes with not knowing if you’ll make it to your destination before dark. Tired of proving that I can handle anything.

I can handle things. I just don’t feel like handling everything anymore.

The WiFi Non-Negotiable

I miss the version of me who could disappear into the New Zealand countryside for two weeks with a tent and zero connectivity. She had a different job. She had different responsibilities. She didn’t have to answer emails or show up on Zoom looking professionally present while secretly wearing pajama pants.

Now, I travel with an eSIM. I scout out cafés with good WiFi before I even scout out accommodation. I’ve had conversations with Airbnb hosts that go: “Hi, I see you have WiFi listed — what’s the actual speed? I need to take video calls.”

Romantic? No. Necessary? Absolutely.

I used to think digital nomad life would be all laptops-on-beaches and working-from-cafés-in-Bali. And sometimes it is. But more often, it’s me sitting in a carefully chosen apartment, on a carefully chosen date, because I have a client call at 9 AM and I need to make sure I don’t look like I’m calling in from a disaster zone.

What Hasn’t Changed

Here’s what’s still true: I’m slow. I don’t pack my itinerary. I don’t feel the need to see everything just because I’m there.

If a famous tourist spot requires standing in line for an hour or costs more than I think it’s worth, I skip it without guilt. I’m perfectly happy to spend an entire day wandering a neighborhood, sitting in a park, or – and this happened recently, me taking three separate buses across Bangkok just to visit a café I’d heard about.

Factory Coffee‘s headquarters. It’s nowhere near the city center. It required planning, transfers, and 45 minutes of breathing in bus exhaust. We got there with 45 minutes to spare before closing. Ordered coffee. Drank it. Left.

Worth it? Absolutely.

Because here’s the thing about slow travel at 40: I’m not trying to prove anything. I’m not trying to be the person who’s been everywhere or done everything. I’m just trying to enjoy myself. And if that means skipping the Grand Palace because the line is too long but taking a two-hour commute for good coffee, so be it.

I still mix tourist spots with off-the-beaten-path places. I still prioritise food over landmarks. I still think the best part of travel is the stuff you stumble into, not the stuff you planned.

I’ve just accepted that these days, I need to plan just enough to make the stumbling possible.

A Different Kind of Flexible

So no, I can’t sleep in airports anymore. My back won’t allow it. My work schedule won’t allow it. My tolerance for uncertainty has shrunk just enough that “let’s see what happens” now comes with the caveat “but let’s also have a backup plan.”

But I’m still out here. Still slow. Still choosing the scenic route, the long lunch, the unplanned afternoon.

I’m just doing it with confirmed WiFi and a place to sleep that doesn’t involve a terminal floor.

And honestly? I don’t miss the earthquake.