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The daffodils are in bloom. Easter is coming. So we, like the rest of America, are going on “break.” We have to take a plane to get there. This involves so many things:

  • What to bring. Complicated, because we depart in forty degree weather and land in eighty degree weather. This requires a complete analysis of my entire wardrobe in terms of “wicking” capability, how wrinkly stuff will get in transit, how many pairs of shoes are acceptable to include, and whether or not my tunics give me enough coverage from the rear.
  • Is the current terrorist activity at a level that will make for longer security lines in the airports here in the US, or can we show up at the airport at a reasonable time? If we get there two hours ahead and zip through security, what on earth will we do with ourselves for two hours at the gate? I took all the game apps off my phone, because I was running out of memory. Should I put Ruzzle back on?
  • Leg room. Breathing space. There isn’t any. So are we allowed to recline our seat backs, or no? What is the etiquette?
  • Blood clots. Who would have ever thought this would be something one has to consider when traveling? But now that we are “of that age,” we have to Google those exercises to do to prevent deep vein thrombosis. Geez.
  • Food. The stuff on the plane is expensive, dry, and tasteless. However, we don’t have a long enough layover to eat the greasy but quite tasty food at the airport restaurants. So, do I put an apple in my purse? Can’t put any nuts in there; somebody might die.
  • What if they lose our luggage? This is a worry. So I have to carry my prescription medications, my phone and Kindle charger cords, and anything else that be horrible to lose forever, like my new necklace from Chico’s. So my purse is very, very heavy.
  • Have you noticed that no matter where you are going by plane, it takes an entire day to get there? For instance, to go anywhere, you first have to go to Chicago or Minneapolis, or Denver, or someplace you don’t want to go? And have a layover, but sometimes the layover isn’t quite long enough, so you find yourself racing through terminals, jostling slower people aside, lurching down those moving sidewalks, and nearly having a heart attack, only to find out when you finally get to your gate that it has been changed? So then you have to race to another gate? Or, alternatively, when you arrive breathless at your correct gate, you find that the connecting flight from Dallas has been delayed, so you have to wait another hour for a plane from Charlotte to arrive?
  • Will I be seated next to an extrovert? One with an interest in genealogy, with roots that go all the way back to George Washington? Or that woman who wants to show me all her Pinterest boards? Should I bring my sleep mask and wear it even if I am not a bit tired? Or worse, will my husband be seated next to this person and engage him/her in conversation for five hours?

They call this a vacation. I prefer to think of it as survival of the fittest.


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