Why I'm Going to BiSC.

For most people, making the decision to go to Bloggers in Sin City was probably just a matter of finances, availability, and the desire to go meet awesome people. As long as they could go without making too big a dent in their bank accounts and were free that weekend, they were signed up. Simple.*

When sign-ups started, I was clear in my decision not to go. I needed to save the money and I was still too scared to get on a plane. It didn’t even cross my mind from the day registration opened until the week it was going to end.

That Monday, for the first time, I entertained the idea. I clicked the link to register to remind myself what the price was, and thought to myself, that’s actually doable. The thought of getting on a plane still scared the crap out of me. So, still no.

On Tuesday or Wednesday, I looked up how long a flight from New Jersey to Las Vegas would take. Five or six hours? No way José.

Then, it was finally Thursday, the last day to register. I sat at work, tweeting about how all the BiSC discussions were bumming me out. My excuse was that I couldn’t afford it; the truth was I didn’t want to fly. I eventually said as much, knowing subconsciously that tweeting about it would open up a conversation about my attendance. People began begging me, claiming they’d fly with me and meet me at baggage claim.

That’s when I knew. I knew that, deep down, I wanted to go. In my heart of hearts, going to BiSC was something I was dying to do. It’s on my 30 Before 30 list, I wanted to meet all these fabulous people, and I wanted a really awesome experience under my belt. I was going to have to fly eventually, so why not go big? Recently I've had this pull to do more, live more authentically, go with my gut and make choices that might be scary but also really exciting.

I decided before the work day was over, but gave myself the drive home to make a “final” decision. After talking it over briefly with my mom and Erik – who were both, surprisingly, supportive – I registered. And then I had a panic attack because holy shit, I’m actually going to have to GET ON A PLANE and FLY FOR FIVE HOURS.

Despite the panic attack and the fact that I still get anxious (and a bit nauseas) every time I think about actually flying, I know it will be worth it. Totally, one-hundred-percent worth it.

*This is just for storytelling purposes and to emphasize my own story. I know the choice might not have actually been that simple for everyone.