It is better to travel hopefully than to fly Continental.
In an era dominated by the relentless pursuit of efficiency, a growing number of travelers are revisiting an age-old adage: *“It is better to travel hopefully than to fly Continental
In an era dominated by the relentless pursuit of efficiency, a growing number of travelers are revisiting an age-old adage: “It is better to travel hopefully than to fly Continental.” While the phrase plays on Robert Louis Stevenson’s famous maxim—“It is better to travel hopefully than to arrive”—its modern twist underscores a burgeoning dissatisfaction with the impersonal, often frustrating experience of air travel, particularly with carriers like Continental Airlines, and a renewed appreciation for journeys that prioritize curiosity and connection over speed.
Recent debates about the state of air travel have intensified as passengers report soaring frustrations—delays, cramped seating, lost luggage, and customer service woes. Continental Airlines, once a stalwart of U.S. aviation, has faced particular scrutiny. Social media threads brim with anecdotes of cramped cabins, indifferent staff, and chaotic boarding processes. “Flying used to feel like an adventure,” remarked frequent traveler Marisol Gonzalez. “Now it’s a transaction. You’re not a person; you’re a seat assignment.”
This sentiment has fueled a counter-movement advocating for slower, more intentional modes of travel. Road trips, train rides, and even cycling tours are seeing a resurgence, with enthusiasts arguing that the journey itself—not the destination—offers the richest rewards. Travel bloggers and influencers have coined the term “hope-based itineraries,” emphasizing spontaneity, serendipity, and engagement with local cultures. “When you slow down, you notice things,” said globetrotter and author Ethan Cole. “A delayed train in the Italian countryside becomes a chance to share stories with a stranger. A detour on a road trip leads to a hidden diner with the best pie you’ve ever tasted. That’s what ‘traveling hopefully’ means—it’s about embracing the unexpected.”
Critics argue that this philosophy is impractical for most working people, who lack the time or resources to eschew expediency. Yet advocates counter that even small choices—opting for a scenic route over a highway, extending a layover to explore a new city, or simply engaging with fellow travelers—can transform a routine trip into something meaningful. Psychologists echo this, noting that the anticipation and reflection inherent in slower travel enhance emotional well-being. “The human brain thrives on novelty and agency,” said Dr. Lena Wu, a cognitive behavioral researcher. “When we reduce travel to a means to an end, we lose opportunities for joy and growth.”
The contrast between these ideologies was starkly highlighted last week when a Continental flight from Newark to Miami was delayed by eight hours due to a technical issue. Passengers, confined to the gate area, grew increasingly agitated. Meanwhile, Amtrak’s Silver Meteor train, traveling the same route along the East Coast, reported a full house. One passenger, retiree Harold Jenkins, shared photos of his journey: sunrise over the Chesapeake Bay, a lively conversation with a college student in the dining car, and a leisurely stroll through Charleston during a brief stop. “I got where I needed to go,” he said, “but I actually lived on the way.”
As the travel industry grapples with post-pandemic recovery, airlines like Continental face a pivotal choice: continue prioritizing cost-cutting and efficiency or innovate to rebuild passenger trust. For many, the answer lies in balancing modern convenience with the timeless human desire for wonder. After all, as Stevenson’s words remind us, hope is not just a feeling—it’s a way of moving through the world. Whether by land, sea, or air, the journeys we remember are seldom the ones that merely get us there fastest. They’re the ones that leave room for the unplanned, the unhurried, and the unforgettable.