Often, you hear people say that if they won the lottery, they would travel. Or they list it as a retirement goal: to travel more. They include it on dating profiles: “loves fine dining, hiking and traveling.”

That is not me.

Then there is a whole subset of people like my mom, people who don’t like the actual traveling part of travel and need three G&Ts and half a Xanax to set foot on an airplane but love being somewhere new and exploring.

That is not me either.

This is a character flaw on my part. I wish I were more adventurous. I wish I liked new things more. I wish I were more willing to take risks.

But I like routine. I like my city. Even more than that, I like my house, and more than that, I like my pajamas, and most of all, I love my family.

I have friends who travel a lot – my kids have berets from Paris from my bestie Sarah and souvenirs from Bali from my beloved former officemate Angie – but when they try to tell me how great traveling is, all I can think of is, “Yeah, Cuba sounds cool and all, but have you heard of Netflix?”

Have Pajamas, Will NOT TravelSo when I had to travel to Philadelphia this past weekend for a work conference, I was not exactly excited. Or – I was, but I was excited about A. meeting other people who work in my same field; B. learning about cool new ideas in my field; and C. having my own hotel room.

And yes, overall, I had a good time. I ate cheese steak and DiNic’s roast pork (aka America’s best sandwich) and butterscotch Krimpets. I met new people, learned new things, and passed out and took in a lot of business cards. I bought Philly-themed presents for my family and even did a very moderate bit of exploring.

Perhaps best of all, at the end of each day, after networking and going to the mix-and-mingle parties, I would take a bath all by myself and read a book without my kids interrupting me every 30 seconds.

I am glad I went – but even gladder to be home.

Even if I don’t care to see other places, necessarily, I am also not someone who thinks that New Orleans is the best/only place in the world. But I do know, with great certainty, that New Orleans is the best/only place for me.

Gumbo > cheese steak, always!