Twenty days out of town since December 1, and I’m just recovering. How do people do this, regularly criss-crossing the country to see far-flung parents and children? For me, it was just an odd combination of training, funerals and nuptials. I cannot imagine a steady diet.
Despite my best efforts, which include buying myself a suitcase with a slot for a laptop, I steered four plastic bins onto the conveyor belt at every security point. And not once did I make it back home with all the hats, gloves, scarves and charger cords I left with. My personal worst was Baltimore, where I nearly left my laptop behind twice and saw my last glimpse of a black velvet beret.
My fellow travelers are not so disjointed. Some queue up at security in Bermuda shorts with nothing but a briefcase or a purse. I am awed. Like a golf course diplomat, I let them play through. And salute my good luck to be grounded…till a Florida friend says, “Come on down!” And immediately, I’m on Kayak.com to find a sweet deal, no matter how many stops it requires. Maybe I just need more practice.
