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Have you ever heard the term “Road Warrior?” I hate it. But it describes exactly my career for the last 5 years. I travel most weeks, and with each trip attempt to combat the stereotype of business travel - which is notoriously unadventurous and uninspiring. I’ve come a long way, in fact. When I first started my career in software training, solo travel was a regular and lonely business, true to the stereotype. One trip changed that for me. I had just read some research that indicated that interactions with strangers produce oxytocin and dopamine, essentially making you happier when you stop and say “hi” or give someone a high five as you walked down the street (I would never otherwise do that). So when I landed in Charleston, South Carolina mid-morning on an early February day - a rare unscheduled, uncommitted day - I decided to test it out. Excited to break out of the typical business travel mode - hotel, wifi, working - I stopped in at my historic downtown hotel, then walked northeast on Calhoun street towards where the Cooper River becomes Charleston Harbor and meets the Atlantic Ocean. Agenda-less, I embraced the beauty of saying “yes” to whatever I happened upon. As I came upon the river, I was drawn towards the docks by the sight of two people looking and pointing at the water: tell-tale signs of wildlife sighting. Approaching the couple, who were all too happy to share in their discovery, I saw a pod of river dolphins cut through the water in front of us, no more than 50 feet from the dock. We watched as the pod swam and jumped. After 20 or so magical minutes, the three of us - and the dolphins - parted ways, cheered and somehow more energetic than I’d been before. Following the coastline, I discovered an old schooner - Spirit of South Carolina - with an open gangway and a couple of deckhands on board. Curious, and emboldened by my first success, I invited myself aboard. The two hesitated and looked at each other. “You aren’t really allowed to be on here, buuuutttt…” one of them said, drawing the last word out while he decided how dutiful he was feeling. “Okay, come on over.” There were 2 of them, young men in their early 20’s, barefoot and scruffy, seamingly at ease in the world. We talked about Charleston and their sailing school - used for weeklong scouting trips or team-building activities, teaching kids and adults about sailing and collaboration and living on the water. Their lives felt liberating. Sitting there on a weekday afternoon, disconnected from a desk, listening to Nathaniel Rateliff + the Night Sweats and feeling the world of opportunity outside of normalcy and routine, I felt so alive. They invited me to join their sailing staff, and I considered it. Saying farewell, I made my way through the typical sights of downtown Charleston - the Battery, the French Quarter and the City Market. Late that afternoon, I made the walk back to my hotel when a light, misty rain started. Light, misty rain turned to drizzle, drizzle turned to downpour. Within minutes, I was soaked. My memory of those beautiful, historic tree-lined Southern streets is suffused with a layer of precipitation. With a mile or so left to walk, I heard someone yell something to me from across the street. “Hey! Do you want an umbrella?” I squinted through the rain to see a woman on her porch, waving me down. I crossed the street and ran to her wrought-iron gate, hesitating before walking into her yard. “I saw you walking up the street and thought you could use this,” she said, waving me closer and handing me an umbrella. I was stunned. “But it’s yours,” I returned, dumbly. “I’m just here for work and I’m not sure I’d be able to return it.” Unphased, she said “Then take it and pass it along to someone else who might need it.” A few long minutes later, I walked into the hotel lobby, shoes squelching and dress dripping-wet, leaving a trail of water behind me as I returned to my room. One walk - and 5 beautiful passing humans - had changed it all.