Usually when I plan a trip, things are actually planned. Tickets are purchased well in advance, seats are chosen as close to the front as possible for a quick get-away (aisle preferred), and I have a basic idea of what I would like my itinerary to consist. However, as the pace of life has continued to quicken and more things fill my plate, I find that old habits do sometimes die hard and that I'm not as prepared as I would like to be.
I'm flying to Boston tomorrow afternoon for an annual work conference. Boston, the home of the Celtics and the Red Sox, the arch enemy to our beloved Yankees. For three days I get to bask in continuing education and learn directly from the experts in the "World of Mentoring". I'm also hoping for a little down time to explore the city that I haven't visited for so long.
But unlike my former visits to Boston, there is still much that I have neglected. First, I don't even know where I am sitting on the plane. Someone else made my travel arrangements. Second, I have no idea where the hotel is nor anything that surrounds it. Third, I am not really even sure what time my flight leaves. How's that for unprepared?
And then there's the packing. For the last three hours I have been trying to pack--unsuccessfully, I might add. I put in a shirt, I throw in some shoes and then I'm distracted by the state of my room. I do a quick "straighten" and then get back to packing. I throw in some pants, some socks, and then I hear yelling from outside my window. Not that this is a strange occurrence, but I'm just curious. Below me are three police cars with flashing lights and a steadily growing group of loud and obnoxious human beings. From what I can tell, they must be intoxicated. Some men, some women, and some very foul language. How do they learn to use the same word as a noun, a verb, an adjective, and a preposition all in the same sentence? It's a talent, I suppose, that I will never master, nor have the desire to master.
Back to packing. I throw in my PJ's, some exercise clothes and then comes the hard part--my Ziploc bag full of necessities. Since airport regulations have changed, packing for a short weekend trip suddenly became very difficult. For how can you fit all of the "essentials" into one sandwich bag where the contents therein must be less than 3 oz? It's tough to negotiate. I figure the hotel will supply me with shampoo, conditioner, soap, and MAYBE lotion. I leave these at home. Throw in some make up, some perfume, some lip gloss, and my contact solution. I think I'm set. It still irks me, however, that they (whoever they are) have decided to dictate what they deem as essential for a quick trip. Surely, the final decision makers must have been men. And I'm not even high maintenance!
Oh well, the packing is done and I am off...now what time do I leave again???
I'm flying to Boston tomorrow afternoon for an annual work conference. Boston, the home of the Celtics and the Red Sox, the arch enemy to our beloved Yankees. For three days I get to bask in continuing education and learn directly from the experts in the "World of Mentoring". I'm also hoping for a little down time to explore the city that I haven't visited for so long.
But unlike my former visits to Boston, there is still much that I have neglected. First, I don't even know where I am sitting on the plane. Someone else made my travel arrangements. Second, I have no idea where the hotel is nor anything that surrounds it. Third, I am not really even sure what time my flight leaves. How's that for unprepared?
And then there's the packing. For the last three hours I have been trying to pack--unsuccessfully, I might add. I put in a shirt, I throw in some shoes and then I'm distracted by the state of my room. I do a quick "straighten" and then get back to packing. I throw in some pants, some socks, and then I hear yelling from outside my window. Not that this is a strange occurrence, but I'm just curious. Below me are three police cars with flashing lights and a steadily growing group of loud and obnoxious human beings. From what I can tell, they must be intoxicated. Some men, some women, and some very foul language. How do they learn to use the same word as a noun, a verb, an adjective, and a preposition all in the same sentence? It's a talent, I suppose, that I will never master, nor have the desire to master.
Back to packing. I throw in my PJ's, some exercise clothes and then comes the hard part--my Ziploc bag full of necessities. Since airport regulations have changed, packing for a short weekend trip suddenly became very difficult. For how can you fit all of the "essentials" into one sandwich bag where the contents therein must be less than 3 oz? It's tough to negotiate. I figure the hotel will supply me with shampoo, conditioner, soap, and MAYBE lotion. I leave these at home. Throw in some make up, some perfume, some lip gloss, and my contact solution. I think I'm set. It still irks me, however, that they (whoever they are) have decided to dictate what they deem as essential for a quick trip. Surely, the final decision makers must have been men. And I'm not even high maintenance!
Oh well, the packing is done and I am off...now what time do I leave again???
No comments:
Post a Comment