Editor’s Page: On the Road Again

I just finished reaching out to all the people I connected with at AORN Expo (see page 10 for some highlights from the show), and I’m getting ready to hit the road once again to attend ASCA’s annual conference in Denver. (Typing that reminded me I need to pack!)

Nothing beats live events for those meaningful face-to-face interactions with the readers who are the heartbeat of this publication. So many of the relationships I have with industry experts and facility leaders stem from conference exchanges — a post-session question that turned into an ongoing discussion that turned into a magazine column or that beer at a networking event that led to a podcast. I vividly remember meeting one facility leader a couple years ago and talking with him long enough to learn he’s good friends with Danny McBride (If you’re reading, mind seeing if Danny wants to read my screenplay? Kidding... sort of.)

These relationships make attending these industry events worthwhile in the first place. It seems like ages ago now, but I still remember how acutely this magazine felt the live-networking pause caused by the pandemic.

In a publishing landscape that largely prioritizes efficiency over effort and quantity over quality, our editors take pride in the fact that we still very much rely on old-fashioned phone calls and in-person conversations when working with subject matter and industry experts. A conference like ASCA is paramount in fostering our existing relationships and cultivating new ones.

The airport itself ain’t a bad spot to network either. During my tenure, I’ve had dozens of meaningful conversations with excited (headed to the conference) and exhausted (headed home) fellow attendees in gates ranging from American to Delta to Spirit (rough year).

There have been a few uncomfortable moments, too. About five years ago, I decided to take my grandmother with me to a conference in Las Vegas so she could play the slots and ogle the oddballs on the strip. A few things you need to know about my Gram: At that time, she was basically surviving on her Big Three: her cigarettes, her Xanax and her reruns of “Walker, Texas Ranger.” She also had a very harsh Northeastern Pennsylvania accent that she seemed to have trouble controlling — especially after she had a few beers.

At the airport, I struck up a conversation with a gastroenterologist. As luck would have it, we sat across the aisle from one another during the flight. I asked relevant questions about his work and he mine. My grandmother, in the middle seat to my left, ignored us until the precise moment she finished her second Coors, at which point she pointed directly at the unsuspecting GI doc and asked me, “What’s he do?”

The gastroenterologist took the opportunity to reply, telling my Gram not only his profession but also the procedure he did most frequently. “Colonoscopies,” he said. “They save lives.”

My grandmother stared blankly at him and then started trying to flag down a flight attendant for another Coors. About five minutes later, she tapped me on my shoulder to whisper in my ear. Problem was, alcohol and altitude rendered her unable to whisper. Instead she practically hollered: “What I want to know is, what’s he get out of being in people’s rear ends all day? I don’t care how much …” Mercifully, the flight attendant’s arrival prevented my Gram from finishing that thought, but the gastroenterologist heard her loud and clear.

He is not one of our regular sources, and the trip from LAS to PHL felt longer than a flight from Singapore to JFK. OSM