It's going to be a bit challenging to post every day on this trip. I didn't bring all the possible internet plug-in options for all the places I am going to be staying, thinking that all my pals would have wi-fi. Not so. But, I am writing every day, so just check back. Also, this might be more travelogue and confessional than spiritual and practice musings.
Once I was in the car service on the way to the airport, I started to get kinda happy. The groove was beginning, the journey was really begun. (Looks like I am over Windsor, Wisconsin as I write.)
I always think I am going to get lots done on cross-country flights but I rarely do. Not even in the mood to watch endless improvement shows on Bravo or anything. Can’t sleep. Can’t read, really. So… Aretha and writing. Does help.
Until I started coming down with my traditional holiday cold, I was doing pretty well. I left the house with a clean bathroom, clean kitchen, and clean sheets on the bed. Lots of things were not accomplished, but that much was. I can’t think of anything major not completed, nor anything left behind. And I made my flight with plenty of time.
Flying is stressful, even more so when all your fellow passengers are likely to be in similar or more advanced stages of emotional, psychic, and spiritual trauma. And there are many many more flying children during the holidays … airborn Petri dishes abounding. (We are fortunate to have a great crop of well-behaved and mellow ones on this flight.)
I have my usual favorite seat on the window in the back. You get on first so you find the overhead space you want. On the arrival end, you have to wait for your luggage anyway, so you can just chill while others are frothing to get off the plane and stand by the baggage arrival. It is a pain to climb over folks when you do need to get up, but it’s easier to have a surface to lean into for sleeping.
So, the Aretha and writing are working their soothing charms … my very nice seatmate might not like me gently rocking out but it’s better than being being kicked by a child, which is what is happening to me.
I count myself blessed because I did not share any of the fate of one of my fellow passengers (not to say travelers). I was standing near to a man traveling with a baby in a snuggli. Just as pre-boarding began, the baby upchucked all over the man and him/herself. A spewing fountain.
Postscript: Had to stop over in Las Vegas for gas. Lots of head winds. Getting gas on a plane follows the same rules as getting on the subway. You need to pee because you need to be sure all will be well.