the id, the ego, & the single misfiring brain cell

i have mixed emotions, but i will make the most of it

Monday

It didn’t even feel like I was leaving this morning. Or last night. Everything was normal, outside of the fact that I’d actually done everything on my to-do list (this may be a first). The great room furniture was exactly where it should be. The dogs and cats vied for attention. There were clean dishes in the washer and dirty dishes on the counter and a nasty winter storm system inbound that everyone was talking about. I slept in our bed and awoke to a pouncy kitten. All the pictures were still on the walls.

It didn’t feel like I was moving away for two years.

When I set the radio alarm last night, the usual station was a bit fuzzy, so I wanked with it until I got a clear station in English. For all I knew, it was a Praise! Station. Whatever it was, it would be a 6am surprise.

It certainly was. It was no longer in English. Instead, it was one of those incurably upbeat Spanish stations that make you keep glancing up for the piñata.

I was already awake thanks to a couple of cats fighting over me (a common occurrence that I like; it strokes my ego). Shortly thereafter, Maxx stood, shook, and started pacing.

Like I said…it felt like a perfectly normal morning.

Except I was leaving. This realization kept coming back to me as I looked around. My bags were already in the car, so there was no pile of luggage sitting in the corner like a 800 lb gorilla. Nope. All was disturbingly normal.

We bathed, I said goodbye to the critters, and Mich drove me to Denver through the freezing fog that’s settling in to lay the way for a massive winter storm hitting tonight.

I hopped from Denver to Dulles, and from here, I’ll go to Munich. From Munich, Izmir. I’ll be there 3:30 tomorrow afternoon, local time.

Tuesday morning, 8am, Munich

I’ve decided there’s a blessing to having insomnia, besides having an awful lot of alone time: the “sleep” you can get riding coach on a trans-Atlantic flight feels about normal. This was helped along by the wonder of modern chemistry, another “perk”—if you will—of being an insomniac. I feel pretty good, all told. I woke at the normal time: about 6:15 local. I felt comfortable and refreshed.

By the way, when I commented over Christmas that was totally wearing my jammies the next time I flew, I meant it. I’m outfitted in soft flannel pants in a loud plaid, a long-sleeved teeshirt, and a chopped up sweatshirt over that. I’m wearing Smartwool socks (the best invention since the combustion engine) with my trusty Birkenstocks. The Birks are perfect because I can wear them anywhere and they function like house shoes. They have no heels, so I can kick them off when my feet get too warm (which is often). I am the epitome of comfort.

Yes, it’s possible that people have given me odd looks for wearing PJs in public, but I’m almost always oblivious to people looking at me (which comes in handy when you have no fashion sense), and if I weren’t, I still wouldn’t care. I’d figure they were thinking one of two things: (1) What an unbelievable slob, or (2) I wish I’d thought of that. The former are pretentious and the latter are taking notes.

I read once that you should wear certain clothing when you fly just in case the plane crashes. Seems like it was Reader’s Digest or something. You know…one of those uplifting and inspiring magazines. Anyway…you should wear a good pair of walking shoes, durable but somewhat loose pants that go to your ankles, and probably layered shirts. I think this was so you’d be able to swim to a deserted island and live off the land should the plane crash, or something. I forget. I’ve long since trashed that “advice.” I figure if the plane crashes (in water or otherwise), surviving with Gilligan and the Skipper until the rescue comes will be the least of my concerns. My main concern is surviving a 35,000 foot plummet, and I doubt a good pair of jeans is going to help me much there.

Now, my main concern is to arrive at destination not feeling, smelling, and looking like shit (other than my poor fashion control). Instead, I choose to arrive refreshed and comfortable and preferably well-rested. This is logarithmically* more important on trans-Atlantic flights.

* I’m not sure what this means, since I skipped the day they taught it in Trig/Calculus, but it sounds good.

So my trip tricks are these: (1) Bathe/shower before you leave. Be TOO clean. (2) Dress entirely for comfort. If you wouldn’t normally sleep in what you’re wearing, you need to make adjustments (unless you sleep in the buff, but let’s not go there). (3) Take along stuff you want to do and you look forward to doing, such as reading a good book, listening to favorite tunes, or cleaning your hard drive. (4) Eat and drink sparingly. This one takes a bit of impulse control, but it’s crucial. Many of us eat when we’re bored and long flights are boring. Some of us drink when we’re bored, and layovers of more than a couple of hours at any given airport can not only get you drunk but can do an unpleasant number on your wallet.*

* For example, I just paid 3.80 Euros for a Heffeweisen. Not sure what the exchange rate is right now ($1 : .60 Euro?), but when we work in the tip, I could buy a six pack back home for that. On the other hand, I’m laid over in Munich. Having a beer here is not optional. Plus it’s delicious.

Back to travel tips: It also helps if you’re sitting next to someone interesting, unobtrusive, and funny. You get bonus points if they don’t smell, they don’t take up more than their fair share of space, and they aren’t holding a colicky 9-month-old. I hit the jackpot on the last flight. My seatmate was all of the above, and didn’t even bother to introduce himself. Neither did I. Introductions in such situations are a bit like introductions in an elevator: you’re thrown together for a limited period never to meet again. Introductions imply more than a passing conversation and if the person turns out to be one of those bores who makes you fantasize about emotionally-rewarding ways to shut him up, you aren’t tied in. You haven’t bonded, see. The introduction is the bond. Until then, you’re strangers, and you’re usually wise to keep that edge.*

* You’ll remember I told you so the next time you violate this rule, but I’ll rise above the occasion and not say I told you so. Since I’ve already said it.

Another tip: Pack light. No. Lighter than that. Even lighter. Right. You don’t want to be one of those people dragging 50 lbs of carry-on through the airports. Nobody uses that much stuff en route to anywhere, and I don’t care where they’re going. And use a backpack, so it straps comfortably to your back (you’ll thank me when you land in Concourse A and have to hoof it to Concourse F). KISS principle, people. Not only are you happily unencumbered as you explore new locales, but you don’t risk lawsuit retrieving your safari pack from the overhead compartments. Everybody wins.

Plus! You aren’t torn between too many choices of how you should blow off the time. The smartest travelers* just take a book with them.

* Of which I am not yet one, but I aspire.

My backpack weighs about 15 pounds. I carry a hairbrush (there’s nothing quite like parallel hair when you want to feel a bit fresher), deodorant (self explanatory), a fresh shirt (ditto), a laptop, and random little things like my wallet, passport, and my Kindle. I carry my meds with me, too. But what more do I need?

I brought a passel of charging cords for my electronics, but that wasn’t terribly bright, was it? I’m in Europe. They have alien electricity here.

Another thing that’ll keep you happy when you travel is to know you have enough money that you can buy a few meals or beers or whatnots without breaking the bank. All of this is expensive unless you’re vacationing in poverty-ridden areas, and you don’t want to fret about how much you’re paying. Just buy it and enjoy. If you can’t just enjoy it, don’t buy it.

By the way, there was a miscalculation in my plans. I rather expected that airports would provide free wi-fi by now, so I’d be able to submit an ongoing log of my travels. I mean, Super 8 Motel has free wi-fi, even. What’s the problem with airports offering it? Denver International does! I’m sure it costs them pennies and makes for tons of very happy travelers.

It turns out that this is unusual. Washington-Dulles, where I was laid over about 2 hours, had hotspots you could log into, such as AT&T and T-Mobile. Problem: until yesterday, I was a T-Mobile customer. We cancelled my phone so I wouldn’t be tempted to call home from Germany or Turkey before I had it changed to a local carrier, which means I was unable to log on at Dulles. Munich offers the exact same “benefit,” as it turns out. So that’s why you’re getting all of this after the fact.

It’s now approaching 9:30am local. My connecting flight might actually be posted on the Departures board by now.

More later. I'm here. I'm tired now. Need sleep. It's almost 9:30pm.

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