I snatched the ream of documents from my secretary’s hands and shoved them into my carry-on luggage. And so began the 48-hour cycle of a mundane business trip: a mad rush to the airport, a hurried nap on the humming plane and two days in a faceless city. Far from the glamor its name suggests, business traveling these days is all business and hardly any traveling. Imagine a trip where the final destination is a stuffy conference room and your travel companions a table of men-in-black who take their jobs way too seriously. Outside the dreary meeting room and just minutes from the sterile office building, a city beckons, waiting to be discovered. For an avid traveler like myself, it is the adult world equivalent of leaving a child behind the iron bars of the Disneyland entrance gates. So close, and yet so frustratingly far away.