Sunrise, sunset
After a few months of virtually no travel for work, I started another little flurry of trips this morning, although my schedule the next couple of months won't be nearly as grueling as it was this past fall.
Anyway, I flew out this morning on the first flight to Atlanta, got bumped up to first class, read this week's New Yorker (which I liked very much, especially Tad Friend's story about police chase in LA, although I briefly wondered whether he makes up people's quotes, because they're all so perfect), and watched the sunrise out the window as I enjoyed my hot towel and hot breakfast.
It was a smooth flight; we landed early; and the directions to reach my meeting were painstakingly detailed, perfect for the directionally challenged. Really; even I can't screw it up when I'm told: "Go to the baggage terminal, take the escalator up, put $1.75 in the machine to get a token, get on the MARTA (all the trains go north), get off at Midtown station (about a 20-minute ride), and I'll meet you at the BACK entrance of the station (NOT the 10th Ave. exit!!), in a red two-door Explorer."
My meeting was productive and brief; my conference call from the airport on the way home was far more straightforward than I'd expected. I was shocked by how polite everyone was in the airport. Literally every person in line at the Quizno's said "please" and "thank you" like they meant it; people were pleasant and patient in the 30-minute security line; and a guy who unexpectedly cut past me as I was trying to turn into the restroom entrance said, "Oh, excuse me -- my fault!" Totally surreal. I enjoyed an US Weekly (I had no idea about Lindsay's anti-Scarlett graffiti! Scandalous!) with my toasted sandwich and was happy as a clam. The plane took off just before sunset, so I had another lovely view for the ride home, even though it was from Row 10.
The only minor downer was that I made the mistake of reading The Year of Magical Thinking on the plane ride home (thanks, SZG, for the loan!). I am liking the book so far, but it is not a book that I ought to be reading while I'm away from the Smelmooo for an extended period of time. Much like Little Children is not so much a book I probably should've been reading on our honeymoon.
Anyway, I'm home safe and sound, which is nice -- and Love Actually is on TV, so even better -- but it's weird and a little lonely being home for the second night in a row without either of my guys (Smelmooo is still out of town, and I left so early and got home so late that we had to leave Tucker at the resort for two nights). But I will make the most of it: catch up on some Ellens that have piled up on the DVR, eat Cherry Garcia straight from the container and get to bed early so I can get my little guy bright and early tomorrow.
I sound like a broken record, but especially after getting halfway through the Didion book, I feel compelled to say it again: Life is pretty darn good.
Anyway, I flew out this morning on the first flight to Atlanta, got bumped up to first class, read this week's New Yorker (which I liked very much, especially Tad Friend's story about police chase in LA, although I briefly wondered whether he makes up people's quotes, because they're all so perfect), and watched the sunrise out the window as I enjoyed my hot towel and hot breakfast.
It was a smooth flight; we landed early; and the directions to reach my meeting were painstakingly detailed, perfect for the directionally challenged. Really; even I can't screw it up when I'm told: "Go to the baggage terminal, take the escalator up, put $1.75 in the machine to get a token, get on the MARTA (all the trains go north), get off at Midtown station (about a 20-minute ride), and I'll meet you at the BACK entrance of the station (NOT the 10th Ave. exit!!), in a red two-door Explorer."
My meeting was productive and brief; my conference call from the airport on the way home was far more straightforward than I'd expected. I was shocked by how polite everyone was in the airport. Literally every person in line at the Quizno's said "please" and "thank you" like they meant it; people were pleasant and patient in the 30-minute security line; and a guy who unexpectedly cut past me as I was trying to turn into the restroom entrance said, "Oh, excuse me -- my fault!" Totally surreal. I enjoyed an US Weekly (I had no idea about Lindsay's anti-Scarlett graffiti! Scandalous!) with my toasted sandwich and was happy as a clam. The plane took off just before sunset, so I had another lovely view for the ride home, even though it was from Row 10.
The only minor downer was that I made the mistake of reading The Year of Magical Thinking on the plane ride home (thanks, SZG, for the loan!). I am liking the book so far, but it is not a book that I ought to be reading while I'm away from the Smelmooo for an extended period of time. Much like Little Children is not so much a book I probably should've been reading on our honeymoon.
Anyway, I'm home safe and sound, which is nice -- and Love Actually is on TV, so even better -- but it's weird and a little lonely being home for the second night in a row without either of my guys (Smelmooo is still out of town, and I left so early and got home so late that we had to leave Tucker at the resort for two nights). But I will make the most of it: catch up on some Ellens that have piled up on the DVR, eat Cherry Garcia straight from the container and get to bed early so I can get my little guy bright and early tomorrow.
I sound like a broken record, but especially after getting halfway through the Didion book, I feel compelled to say it again: Life is pretty darn good.
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