There’s something uniquely terrifying about standing in front of a crowd, all eyes on you, waiting for you to speak. As it turns out, this fear isn’t just common—it’s practically universal. Public speaking consistently ranks higher than death in surveys about people’s greatest fears. As Jerry Seinfeld famously joked, most people at a funeral would rather be in the casket than delivering the eulogy. This reality is something I’ve wrestled with throughout my life, despite appearances suggesting otherwise.
In our latest podcast episode, I delve into the fascinating parallel between venturing into foreign lands and stepping onto a stage. Both require a leap of faith, both trigger our fight-or-flight response, and both ultimately lead to growth. As my wife Rita and I embark on Season 2 of our podcast, we’re navigating a modified version of our original plan. After selling our home and car to travel full-time, unexpected health challenges (namely a bout of pancreatitis in Latvia) forced us to reconsider. Now with a home base in eastern Tennessee, we’re planning to spend six to nine months abroad annually—a “Plan B” that still feeds our wanderlust while acknowledging our need for stability.
The anticipation of my upcoming speaking engagements at the International Living Go Overseas Boot Camp in Portland brought my stage fright anxieties to the surface again. Despite having given countless presentations before, including five talks at a single conference, the nervousness never truly dissipates. It builds gradually, peaking in those final moments before stepping onstage. This mirrors the anticipatory anxiety many feel before embarking on international travel—the fear of the unknown, of being vulnerable in unfamiliar territory, of potential embarrassment or failure. Yet just as travelers return with life-changing experiences and perspectives, those who push through stage fright often discover unexpected resilience.
My most harrowing public speaking experience—appearing on a live television talk show—demonstrates how paralyzing this fear can be. Despite having performed as a radio DJ, played in bands, and even dressed as Barney for children’s parties, nothing compared to the sheer terror of live TV. I vividly recall driving past the studio entrance multiple times, contemplating escape, before finally surrendering to the experience. The fascinating thing? When I later watched the recording, the person on screen appeared calm and collected—a stark contrast to my internal chaos. This disconnect between our perceived performance and reality is something many travelers experience too; what feels like a disaster in the moment often becomes a cherished memory or even a humorous anecdote later.
The evolution of our travel lifestyle—from full-time nomads to part-time explorers—mirrors how we often adapt our approaches to intimidating challenges. Rather than abandoning our dreams entirely when faced with obstacles, we’ve adjusted the parameters to make them sustainable. Similarly, I haven’t stopped public speaking despite my anxiety; I’ve simply developed coping mechanisms and perspective. As Dennis Miller wisely noted when facing stage fright, “Well, at least I’m not jumping out of a chopper in ‘Nam.” This ability to contextualize our fears, whether they involve foreign languages or foreign stages, is perhaps the greatest skill both travelers and public speakers develop. After all, we travel not to escape life, but so that life does not escape us—and facing our fears, on stage or abroad, is a fundamental part of truly living.
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