Peru - Day 0 - A Familiar Departure, an Unfamiliar Destination

“Peru”

2/12/15, “A Familiar Departure, an Unfamiliar Destination”

It seems that the more ambitious my trip, the more stressful the departure day is.  By my standards, this three-day trip to visit the sanctuary of Machu Picchu is not particularly ambitious.  I only intend to spend one night in the sanctuary lodge, and I have enough time in my schedule to spend a full day in Lima.  My flight tonight is at 10:45 PM.  This should not have been a stressful departure, yet, it was.  I just want to get on that airplane and fall asleep as we make our way south.  Then, tomorrow, I can take my connecting flight, the bus or taxi to the train station, then the train to Machu Picchu.

I’ll be having dinner in the sanctuary lodge in less than 24 hours.  Again, nothing particularly ambitious by my standards.  The 10:45 PM flight allowed plenty of buffer between the end of the work day and my flight, especially with the early office closing time of 3:30 PM before the holiday.  Why then was this so stressful?  I would be tempted to blame the difficulty of making the transfer to Machu Picchu, clearly the most daunting part of the trip, or the bruised bone in my foot that will make walking difficult, but it would be dishonest to do so.

The truth is, the stress is almost entirely caused by personal issues that are beyond the scope of this Travelogue.  If this were not a departure day, the personal issues would have been easily resolved by the morning.  As it is, they may not even be resolved until late Tuesday night.  At the end of 2014, I went to South America for the first time, under very different, though no less stressful circumstances.  I was in a relationship that I knew would end within a week or two of my return back to the States.  I lost my cell phone not long after arriving in Buenos Aires.

The interesting part was, I met the person who person helped me plan this trip during that trip.  I did not think this was doable as a three-day weekend.  I made it work, and I am glad I was able to incorporate the full day in Lima.  I made many friends during that trip, but she is the only one with whom I have stayed in touch.

I woke up early today, and I did a little bit of work from bed until I needed to leave to get to the office at my usual start time.  I had a very productive day at work, and I did get my traditional pre-departure lunch at Hop Won, for the first time in 2016, I believe.  I also ran a few errands, including a much-needed haircut and bear shearing.  I finished up at work, and then I printed out my documents for the trip.  I headed to the cigar store, where I had another one of my unbanded Graycliff cigars.  Then came decision time.

Working backwards, my flight was at 10:45 PM, which meant I wanted to be at the airport at 8:00 PM, which meant I needed to be on the 6:30 PM bus from midtown, which meant I needed to be packed, showered, and dressed and leave my apartment by 6 PM, which meant I needed to be at my apartment by 5 PM to take care of everything.  It was closer to 5:30 PM by the time I got to my apartment, and I was just too stressed to take the bus.  I lit up a Padron Anniverario, and I walked back to the cigar store at 6:30 PM, which would have been fine to take the bus if I were so inclined.  They closed at 7 PM, and I waited for a taxi.

There was a family waiting before me, but they were going to Chinatown, and the driver was going off-duty, heading back to Queens, which meant he was more than willing to take me to Kennedy.  He asked if he could stop at the deli to get a drink, offering to buy me something, as well.  I asked for a Diet Coke.  I had hoped that my stress would have been relieved by the time I got to the airport, no such luck.  It’s still not.  In fact, it’s worse.  I just want to be on that plane and fall asleep right at 11:11 PM.  It was 8 PM when we got to the airport, and I know that I have been to Terminal 8 before, but it had been a while.

That was where I got Keira Knightley’s autograph.  Our arms brushed against each other, her bare, bony elbow, and my plump, unsleeved forearm (or maybe the other way around, my elbow and her forearm).  I almost died.  Tonight, I just wanted to be dead, well, that’s an exaggeration, but I wanted to be unconscious as soon as possible.  I hoped that everything would resolve itself by the time I got to Machu Picchu, or that I, at least, wouldn’t care.  There was a huge line to check-in, but, travelling alone, they whisked me off to the empty VIP check-in.  The long line for security was quick moving, but the TSA agent halfway through was asking weird questions of everyone.  I’m not sure if it was his way of being jovial, or if it was heightened security.  He asked me if I packed my bag, if I was sure, and how sure I was.  Yes, yes, and very.  He then asked me to tell him what color my bag was without looking at it.  Black.

I headed towards my gate, not a short walk, even longer with my injured foot, and I went to a restaurant called SoHo Bistro.  I wanted to be out of there in 20 minutes.  The service was bad and slow and disordered.  It took about 40 minutes, which ate into the time I had allocated for this entry.  I ordered the lobster mac and cheese with, I thought, onion rings instead of fries for a nominal substitution charge.  After what seemed an eternity, they brought it with fries, and I asked him to bring the check.  I then remembered the onion rings, and tried to call him back, but he was gone.  When he came back, halfway through my meal, very carefully phrasing, I asked, “Didn’t I order onion rings?”  He said that he didn’t see that on the order form but that he could bring me onion rings.  I was done with the meal by the time he brought the rings.  I was so disgusted with the service that I was prepared to leave no tip.  However, the onion rings made a difference.  I figured I’d give him 10% plus the price of the upcharge for the onion rings if he waived it.  He didn’t waive it.  He charged me for a side of onion rings.  That came out of his tip, so I would up leaving slightly under 10%.

I then headed to the gate, where I proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close.  One source of my stress was relieved by the time I finished writing, even though an agent came up to me to take away my carry-on, saying it needed to be checked, though the other source(s) will have to remain until Tuesday, though I can forget about them until then.  Anyway, definitely need to close now so that I can publish it before we board.

Florida 2016 - Day 3 - The Return Journey

2/8/16, “The Return Journey”

Palm Beach International Airport, Florida (PBI)

I’ve had flights cancelled before, but two in one trip, that might be a first.  I should not have time to write an entry with this dateline.  I should have been at the gate about half an hour before my flight.  Now, it will be at least 2 hours before I can get on an airplane back home.  I should have been flying to LGA, the most convenient airport to get to the office.  Now, I am flying to EWR, the least convenient one.  I should have been getting to office only an hour or so late.  Now, I will not get there until the afternoon.  Fortunately, I have a laptop with a full charge and VPN access, so I will be able to work remotely, but it is not the same.

After I closed last, night, we settled in for the game, taking my pizza and wings from Papa John’s out of the oven.  Better Ingredients, Better Pizza, Papa John’s.  It had been a long time since I had pizza from Papa John’s, and I was not disappointed.  I also began my process of drinking an entire 2-Liter bottle of Diet Pepsi.  The best part of the Super Bowl is usually the commercials, but they were extremely disappointing this year.  The best one was by Bud Light featuring Seth Rogen and Amy Schumer pretending to run for president, with an off-color joke about having a “big caucus.”

The game was so sloppy.  The Broncos won the game 24-10 with three field goals, a defensive touchdown, and one measly offensive touchdown (along with a two-point conversion).  If they had missed that two-point conversion, I would have won a lot of money in the office Super Bowl pool.  They made it, but I still will be able to cash in the bets I made with various people in favor of the Broncos, no small amount of money.  No one expected the Broncos to win, I did.  I knew that Peyton Manning wanted the glorious finish to his career so that he could retire on a high note.  The game was not glorious, but a W is a W.  When lists are made of the Greatest QB of all Time, his name will always be included in that conversation.

After the game, there was a special episode of the Late Show with Stephen Colbert, which my father and I watched until I was ready to go sleep.  I set an alarm for the morning, 4:30 AM, or so I thought.  My mother had arranged a taxi to pick me up at 4:45 AM.  I figured that the taxi would be a failsafe to call me even if I overslept.

I woke up at 4:36 AM.  My alarm had not gone off.  Whiskey Tango Foxtrot?  I had never pressed the “DONE” button to finalize the alarm.  I raced to get ready and heated up some pizza.  I headed downstairs.  It was now about 4:55 AM.  No taxi.  Whiskey Tango Foxtrot?  I called the taxi company.  They had my reservation, and they asked if they would like to call the driver to find out where he was.  Something was cagey about their answer.  “Is he on his way?”  They once more offered to call the driver.  “It’s a yes or question, is he on his way?”  They finally admitted that he was not, that they had never sent him.  Whiskey Tango Foxtrot?  I told them to send him and also ordered an Uber.  I would go with whichever came first.

The taxi came first, and we were soon at the airport.  It was 5:20 AM, about an hour before my flight.  I went to check-in.  They told me that my flight had been cancelled.  Whiskey Tango Foxtrot?  They had put me on a flight for February 10^th.  WHISKEY TANGO FOXTROT?!?!?!?  That was two days from now, not an option.  Eventually, they said they could put me on an 11:10 AM flight to Newark with a standby option for the 7:55 AM flight.  That was not the best, but it was better than being stuck here for two days.  I went outside to find a seat.  I found a nice bench, where I lit up an unlabeled Graycliff and proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close so that I can start working remotely.  Andrew will get his 8 hours one way or the other.

New York, New York

Andrew got his 8 hours, 9 of them actually.  After I closed, I got straight to work, heading to security as soon as I finished my cigar.  I worked a little more from the gate.  Fortunately, they were able to put me on the 7:55 AM flight, which landed at Newark at 10:30 AM after an unadventurous flight.  It looked so familiar again, though it had been so long since I landed at EWR on a domestic flight.  I picked up a roast beef sandwich and headed outside, where I got a taxi.  I ate the sandwich en route and got some more work done, too.  I got to the office at 11:30 AM, not bad considering everything.  I put in about 6 and a half hours at the office, stepping outside around 1:30 PM, even though I didn’t get any food.

At 6:15 PM, I headed to the cigar store, and that was that.  I smoked my cigar and walked home with my suitcase.  I then sat in my chair, where I proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close, along with closing out this trip.  When I first saw my parents, after 6 weeks, the longest we had ever gone without seeing each other, it felt really weird.  Now, it’ll be another 5 weeks before we see each other again.  It’s definitely unfamiliar.  Next stop: Peru to see the ruins of Machu Picchu.

Florida 2016 - Day 2 - Back for the Super Bowl (Or: Bahamas 2016 - Day 2 - Graycliff: The Experience)

2/7/16, “Back for the Super Bowl”

Lynden Pindling International Airport, The Bahamas

They say of the West Indies, you’ve seen one island, you’ve seen them all, but I want to see all of them.  I only have one island left to visit: Hispaniola.  While each island is more similar than different, the theme of this Travelogue is finding the familiar within the unfamiliar and experiencing the unfamiliar within the familiar.  Each island provides its own unique experience.

I probably should have called this trip “Graycliff: The Experience.”  Everything about my time in The Bahamas, since I landed here 20 hours agos, has been centered around the Graycliff.  I stayed at the Graycliff Hotel, ate all my meals there, smoked mostly Graycliff cigars, drank Graycliff coffee, and bought a bunch of consumable Graycliff products to take home.  It is fitting that I now await my flight back to the States in the Graycliff cigar lounge at LPIA.

My foot is better, I said “The Bahamas Complete,” I got all the souvenirs I wanted to get, and I have plenty of time to smoke one last Graycliff cigar before I fly back for the Super Bowl.  All is well.  After I closed last night, I crashed almost immediately, waking up six hours later to head down to breakfast.  I opted for grits, of course, their breakfast staple, along with eggs benedict with a spicy lobster sauce, which I knew would be a mistake, and coffee.  The meal was delicious, but I knew I would soon pay the price for the eggs benedict.  I just hoped that I could say, “The Bahamas Complete” before I had to pay that price.  I used my chopsticks, having forgotten to do so last night, and it was certainly a unique experience eating grits with chopsticks.

After breakfast, I went across the street to the Graycliff shop to get cigars, chocolate, and coffee.  I lit up a red band cigar, the original, and headed to the Straw Market.  They did not have flag pins there, but they had everything else.  I got my souvenirs and continued to walk around Bay Street, the main souvenir street.  I found flag pins before long.  It was almost time to pay the price for the eggs benedict.  I was not sure how much longer I could hold out.

Parliament was two blocks away, so I headed there and took some ceremonial pictures.  I announced, “Bahamas, no, THE Bahamas Complete.  [An unprintable comment about the eggs benedict.]”  It was about 5 minutes back to the hotel.  I was not sure I could wait that long.  As I was walking, I saw the perfect ashtray in the window of a shop.  I went into the shop, but I was told I could not come in with my cigar.  I told her what I wanted and gave her the cash.  She wrapped it for me and brought me back my change.  That took about 5 minutes.  It was 5 minutes I did not have, not in an addition to the 5 minutes it took to walk back to the hotel.  Suffice it to say, I should have ordered the French toast, no eggs.

I packed, such as it was, checked out, and got a taxi back to the hotel, arriving at the airport with over two hours before my flight.  I figured, an hour for security and border control, an hour for my cigar, and I get to the gate half an hour before my flight.  Check-in and security was a breeze.  I went to the Global Entry kiosk, did my declaration there, and then went to cross the border.  Wait, something was up.  They were interviewing everyone, even the Global Entry users.  I never have to do that.

When it was my turn, he flipped through my passport, asked me if the few bags I had were my only luggage, saw my Iranian visa, and told me I had been selected for a random screening.  Random screening my arse, I fit a profile.  Any agent who did not select me for a secondary should have been fired.  Travelling for alone, one night, almost no luggage, a full passport with an Iranian visa, that’s as suspicious af.  The screening was courteous and efficient, and they made no mention of the three Cuban cigars I had in my bag, which I honestly claimed were from Mexico, other than saying I like to smoke a lot of cigars.

I got some rum and headed to the Graycliff lounge with over an hour before boarding.  I picked out a purple label cigar and sat in the corner of the lounge, where I lit up my cigar and proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close so that I can have some lunch before my flight.

West Palm Beach, Florida

A chill wind blows from the Intercoastal over West Palm Beach, and the sun begins to set, with less than hour until kick-off for Super Bowl 50.  Not Super Bowl L, Super Bowl 50.  I am fitting in one last smoke for the day, my 2011 Christmas Pipe, though West Palm pales in comparison to the capital cities where I have previously smoked this pipe, such as Quebec, Vienna, and Hong Kong.  There is not much to report, but I would be remiss if I didn’t do a closing entry tonight, and I will not have enough time to write and smoke after the Super Bowl, not to mention the frigid wind will only be worse past dark.

After I closed, I got a roast beef sandwich, along with chips and Diet Coke.  It was small but filling.  We would be getting Papa John’s for dinner.  The flight was entirely unadventurous, and my parents were waiting for me at FLL.  We picked up pizza and sides at Papa John’s and headed back to the condo, where I changed into my pajamas.  I filled up my 2011 Christmas Pipe and lit up inside, unable to do so outside because of the wind.  I went outside once my pipe was lit and sat down, where I proceeded to write this entry.  I won’t close quite yet, as I still have time left on my pipe, but I will pause to get some warmer clothes.

I have written enough about island culture, about how much I enjoy travelling to the islands while avoiding the beaches and resorts.  Why then is Florida so different?  Why does Key West not exhibit the same island culture?  I can only imagine that it a matter of money.  The US, even Florida, is much wealthier than the islands, even Puerto Rico.  The quaintness that I so adore about the islands is a result of poverty.  It is a result of the adaptations they have had to make to live in a hot climate with not a lot of money.  The brightly colored buildings are a result of not being to properly afford modern cooling.  Other examples of that are abundant.  My next trip to the islands will take me to Haiti, which is the poorest country in North America, and I fear that it will be more depressing than quaint.  On that note, I close.

Florida 2016 - Day 1 - One Night in Nassau

2/6/16, “One Night in Nassau”

Nassau, The Bahamas

The flight from Florida to Nassau is shorter than an episode of “The X-Files,” and I have been to Florida well over 20 times, yet this marks the first time I have been to The Bahamas.  One night in Nassau, that was all I needed to check this country off my list, but what a night it was.  It is now past 1 AM, and I arrived at my hotel, the world-famous Graycliff Inn, here a little after 7 PM, six hours ago.

I have not been more than a block away from my hotel since I arrived.  I am staring out at the Government House, which I call the “Pink House,” the brightly colored governor’s mansion, smoking my 2010 Christmas Pipe, just as I did in Quebec, Istanbul, Lake Placid, the Bransfield Strait, and Belmopan.  While it is nigh impossible to compete with that night on the Bransfield, tonight lays waste to the relatively lackluster nights I experienced in those other locales.  After I closed last night, I published my entry.  I then responded lengthily to an email from my father’s friend.

It was past 3 AM by the time I collapsed into bed and close to 11 AM when I finally woke up.  It was a bit of a rush, since we needed to go to visit my grandmother, and we would need to leave there by 2 PM for me to make my train.  The pain in my foot, which has now started to abate, had gotten much worse, and I could barely walk.  We stopped at Einstein Bagels for brunch I guess it was at this point, and I ate in the car.  I also further explained the details of my solution to the soda problem.

I had finished eating by the time we got to my grandmother’s place, and, once more, I could barely walk.  They provided me with two things that would help in abating the issue with my foot pain.  First, we iced my foot.  Second, they gave me a cane, which helped a lot.  After about an hour there, we made our way to the train station.  The train was right on time, it had WiFi, and there was an outlet next to me, all good.  I went to continue the email debate with my father’s friend.  I wanted to plug in my laptop.  Wait, noooooooo.  I had left the charger at my parent’s place.  With my previous laptop, that would have been a disaster, but this beaut has over six hours of battery life.

We arrived at the airport station a little behind schedule, and the shuttle bus to the airport had already left, or so it seemed.  That didn’t make any sense.  Whom were they shuttling if the train was late?  It turned out there were two buses around the same time, but the driver for the second one was missing.  I had almost no cash on me, so a taxi didn’t seem an option.  Fortunately, someone else there was able to drive it.  I went to check-in for my flight, a little tight on time, but still comfortable.  It was taking too long.  What was wrong?

Well, it turned out that my flight was cancelled.  They wanted to put me on the next flight, which would not get me to Nassau until after 9 PM.  That was not an option.  I would arrive too late for dinner.  I told them to refund my ticket, and I would take the JetBlue flight at 5:12 PM.  That worked out, but it meant I had to swap my return flight, too.  Fine, whatever, I just wanted to get to the Straw Market before it closed at 8 PM, watch the debate, and have dinner at the hotel restaurant.  I would have time in the morning to take daylit ceremonial pictures.

The flight was unadventurous and short.  The immigration line was practically nonexistent.  Reader, this is a country that is dedicated to tourism, and that means making border control as painless as possible.  I took a taxi from the airport to my hotel, getting there, as I mentioned, a little after 7 PM.  I checked in, and the receptionist offered to switch my room to the front of hotel so that I wouldn’t have to walk as much.  That was very convenient, and the view was better, too, along with having the balcony.  I would need to wear nice clothes for dinner, but that was not for two hours, so I changed into my shorts and lit up a Cohiba.

I headed to the Government House, which is next to the hotel, and took a few ceremonial pictures there.  The Straw Market had actually closed at 6 PM, but it would be open at 8 AM tomorrow morning.  That’s island culture.  They follow the schedule of the cruise ships.  Everyone is back on the ship by 6 PM, but they damn well better be open when people get off the ship the next day.

I went back to my room, still with plenty of cigar left, the Republican Debate starting at 8 PM.  I watched a bit of the debate, surprised to see new frontrunner Marco Rubio getting so torn apart.  Whatever gains he made in Iowa seemed to have disappeared tonight.  It will all come down to the New Hampshire primary on Tuesday.  We will know a lot more after that.  I changed into my shirt and slacks and shoes and headed downstairs in time for a 9:30 PM seating, the latest I could arrive.  There was a cigar roller there, and a piano lounge where you could smoke.

I planned it all out.  After dinner, I would go there with some coffee and smoke a cigar before SNL began at 11:30 PM, and then I would do my Christmas Pipe and entry afterwards.  I got my local beer and ordered from the overpriced menu, opting for conch chowder, local grouper, and mashed potatoes, along with a guava duff that I would bring back to my room for dessert.  I continued to watch the debate on my phone during dinner, which killed my phone’s battery.

After dinner, I got the cigar from the roller, and awaited my coffee in the lounge.  I was in heaven.  I was smoking a freshly rolled Graycliff cigar at the Graycliff Inn.  There was an older couple sitting near me.  The woman was stunning.  A 9, easily.  I knew from the way the way they were talking that they were in their 50s, but they looked much younger.  We started talking a bit, and she tried to take a picture of me with me phone, which was overly complicated by the fact that my phone was now below 6%, and I had to use an alternate camera app.

She made a joke about “young people and your fancy gadgets.”  She guessed that I was 30.  I said that I was 28.  “What are you, 34?”  It was exactly what she wanted to hear.  “Bless your heart,” she said, adding that she was old enough to be my mother.  No way.  She said that she was 48.  Her husband made it clear to me that she was lying.  I told her that she didn’t look it.  At 58, she was only three years younger than my mother, so definitely old enough to be my mother.  I wonder if she will go home and brag to her friends that a 28-year-old couldn’t keep his eyes off of her.  She took some photos of me with her phone and took down my number so that she could text them to me when she got back to the States.

My phone died after I sent my ceremonial 11:11 Snap.  I didn’t care.  There was no way I was leaving this conversation, even if it meant missing the beginning of SNL.  I had finished my coffee at this point and had switched to a local rum, which was overly sweet.  The cigar was amazing.  We started talking about Hot Springs National Park, which is in their home state of Arkansas.  I said, “I don’t understand how that’s a National Park.  It’s just a bunch of bathhouses with some grass behind it.”  The husband almost died.  He said that that was the funniest thing he ever heard.  At 11:30 PM, they went outside to wait for their taxi, and I raced up to my room to watch SNL.

Now it was my turn to almost die. With Larry David hosting and his doppelganger Bernie Sanders making a guest appearance, it was one of the funniest episodes I had ever seen.  Afterwards, I headed out to the balcony, moved the chair to the end to get a good view of the Government House, and sat down, where I lit up my 2010 Christmas Pipe and proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close.  Most people don’t understand the way I travel.  Their idea of a trip to the Bahamas would have been the beach or going to one of the big resorts like Atlantis.  No, for me, this is perfect.  Even though it was ostensibly about getting a stamp in my passport and a flag pin, tonight has been one of the most memorable and enjoyable nights of my life.

Florida 2016 - Day 0 - The Perfect Storm

“Florida 2016”

2/5/16, “The Perfect Storm”

Aboard DL 2065, En route LGA-PBI

Today marks two very important chronological features.  61 years ago today my mother was born, which is the reason I am flying to Florida today.  6 months from today is Opening Ceremonies of the Games of the XXXI Olympiad in Rio, which triggers certain changes in the consumer products I will purchase, in an attempt to support the Olympic Sponsors.  The Super Bowl is in two days.  All of this leads to a perfect storm.

See, reader, while Coca-Cola is the sponsor of the Olympics, Pepsi-Cola is the sponsor of the NFL.  Surely my reader will agree that I could not in good faith drink Coca-Cola products during the Super Bowl, yes?  Now, my reader should understand that, once that 6-month window begins, I will not purchase products from direct competitors of the Olympic Sponsors, nor will I consume products that have been purchased after the 6-month window began.  The 6-month window would begin approximately 50 hours before the Super Bowl.  What then would I drink during the Super Bowl?

Fortunately unopened soda bottles stay good for more than 50 hours after purchase, and the solution was simple.  My mother, in Florida, would purchase three bottles of Pepsi-Cola products for us to drink during the Super Bowl.  She would have to purchase it before the 6-month window began.  I looked up when the Opening Ceremony would begin and did the time zone conversion.  She would need to purchase the soda by 5 PM today.  I sent her an email to that effect yesterday morning.  She would buy two bottles of caffeinated diet soda and one bottle of caffeine free.  There would be plenty of soda for all of us to drink during the game.  It was going to be perfect.   I had found a solution to this quagmire.

When I left for the airport around 4:30 PM today, I attempted to call my parents to confirm the soda had been purchased.  Neither of them picked up.  I emailed my mother, asking her to confirm that she had purchased the soda by 6 PM [sic].  No response.  My flight was at 6:36 PM.  I had eaten lunch (not my traditional pre-departure Hop Won) around 2 PM, and I left work a little after 4 PM, after a very stressful day of rushing to meet a bunch of deadlines that all came together at the last minute.  There were multiple items that needed to go out today, all of which I was unable to prepare prior to today.  It was the perfect storm.

I got almost everything out that needed to go out, but the regular day-to-day stuff had to suffer, putting me a full day behind on my every day stuff.  I was in a very high stress state for almost the entire day.  I was relieved to finally leave the office in time to finish my cigar before I had to catch a taxi to the airport.  It was 5 PM by the time I got to the airport.  The flight was at 6:36 PM.  I figured I’d breeze through security, get something to eat, finish up some work stuff that I had to put aside, and have plenty of time to make my flight.  Right?

Wrong!  The line for security was atrocious, and my Delta Silver status apparently is not enough to use the Priority Lane.  You need to be Delta Gold.  The line would take close to an hour I figured.  It would be enough to make my flight, I hoped, but not enough time to get something to eat.  I was starving.  I got the call from my father, saying they were at Publix getting the soda.  Okay, fine.  It was last minute, but it would be purchased in time, or so I thought.  My mother then asked if I wanted her to pick up Burger King.  I explained that it was subject to the same embargo as the Pepsi-Cola products.  If she could purchase it by 6 PM, I could eat it later.  I emailed her my order.

Something didn’t seem right.  Was 6 PM really the deadline?  I checked the initial email.  It said 5 PM.  Was I wrong then, or was I wrong now?  The deadline was, in fact, 5 PM, with time zone differences and everything.  I called my mother back.  Reader, have you been following along?  Have you been paying attention to all the details and timelines?  Okay.  I let her know that the deadline was 5 PM and it had already passed and that she should not buy the soda or get the Burger King.

What did she say?  Did she apologize for messing up?  Did she acknowledge her mistake?  No.  Instead she blamed me.  She responded, “But you said it was 6 PM.”  Reader, there was no way that was possible.  Recall that my email was sent after 4:30 PM, asking her to CONFIRM that she had purchased the soda.  She did not even acknowledge that email until after 5 PM.  If I had never sent that email, she would have still purchased the soda after 5 PM, and it would have been too late to avoid the embargo.  It was not as if I sent the email at noon, and she emailed me immediately afterwards, saying, “Okay, I’ll go later this afternoon.”  She was already in the store, past 5 PM, when she saw the email.  Yet, she tried to blame me for it.

I was furious.  I was furious about that.  I was furious about having to wait in the long line at security.  I was starving.  It was the perfect storm.  There was only one solution to this problem, and it was not a good one.  There is one beverage company that is a sponsor of both the US Olympic Committee and the NFL: Budweiser.  Now, beer and football go together very well.  However, I do not want to spend an entire football game drinking nothing but Budweiser.  I would have liked to have been able to have a soft drink during the game.  That was rendered impossible.  I was not particularly angry at my mother for screwing up, that happens all the time.  I was angry at her for not being sympathetic to my plight, for trying to blame me for it, for refusing to take responsibility for her mistake.

My father asked if there was any flexibility.  There was none.  This was the only loophole, and it was no longer available due to my mother’s mistake.  My mother told me to “move on,” which was just about the worst thing she could have said.  She has known me for 28 years, been with me for eight Olympic cycles now.  She knows how I get about the Olympics.  She knows my rules.  She knows how inflexible I am about them.  She knows that I cannot just “move on.”  (Would that it were so simple.)  She said the exact wrong thing to say.

I had cleared security, but I had lost my appetite, I was that infuriated about this.  I figured I would regain my appetite by the time I got to my gate, but there were no fast options for food.  That was ridiculous.  This is an airport, and yet they focus on food places that have to cook individual orders.  I had no time for that.  I knew that only food could lighten my spirits, and I resigned myself to not being able to eat for another hour.  It was the perfect storm.

When I finally got on the plane, things started to get better, for a while, at least.  I had gotten an exit row seat, and the middle seat was empty.  Perf.  I was able to put both my bags up top, too.  Perf.  Finally, the beverage service came.  They only had snack boxes.  No sandwiches, no wraps.  This was not dinner.  This was a snack.  Fortunately, it was better than the cookies and goldfish I was forced to eat for dinner last time en route to Cancun.  However, last time, I was in a very chatty mood to befriend my seatmate.  Today, I was just infuriated about the soda incident and in no mood to talk to anyone.  I got the usual snack box I get, along with Pringles and Coke Zero.

The highlight of the snack box is the cheese spread and salami slices, which I put on the crackers.  There were 14 salami slices, so I painstakingly made 7 tiny sandwiches (intending to make 7 more later).  As I ate them, my spirits started to lift.  Then, a slight jerk.  Two of the fell on the floor.  Back to being mopey.  By the time I finished the rest of them (along with the other 7), my spirits were back to a neutral state.  I got my cord to charge my phone and sat back down in my seat, where I proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close.

West Palm Beach, Florida

Reader, recall that about finding the familiar within the unfamiliar and experiencing the unfamiliar within the familiar?  It was back the moment I stepped outside at PBI Airport.  I had probably arrived at the airport more times in my life than I had at any other airport outside of the New York area.  All the times I flew down to visit my grandmother for Passover.  However, lately, I have been opting to fly into MIA or FLL for these trips due to convenience with international options and car rental.  It had been quite some time since I was at PBI, but it all came rushing back to me the moment I set foot outside.  It was familiar once more.

My parents were circling and would soon be back around.  However, not having seen them in six weeks now, that was almost unfamiliar.  Dare I say I even missed them?  Let’s not go that far, but it was certainly weird seeing them for the first time in six weeks.  It was, I’m pretty sure, the longest we had ever gone without seeing each other.  We talked about this month’s big three topics as we drove: Primaries, Oscars, and the Super Bowl.  I’m rooting for Trump, Brooklyn, and the Broncos.  We stopped at McDonald’s for some food.  Desperately craving some solid protein, I opted for a double cheeseburger, along with some other stuff.

My dad asked if I had the Oscars figured out.  I effortlessly rattled out my Oscar predictions.   I have every category memorized, each frontrunner and most second-place contenders, as well.  We got to their condominium complex, and I was shocked how friendly everyone was in the elevator, exchanging greetings with them.  When we got off at their floor, I asked if they knew all of their neighbors.  They said they didn’t know any of them.  I was shocked!  Why were they exchanging friendly greetings then?  I have lived in the same building for close to a decade now, and I do not know a single one of my neighbors.  The closest I ever come to exchanging greetings is a noncommittal nod or thanks as we hold the front door for each other and a grunt as we make room to pass each other by the stairwell.  That’s the way I like it.  I questioned the sanity of the inhabitants of this building.  My parents said it’s not the building, it’s anywhere outside of New York.  I love New York.

When we got to their unit, we started to get settled in, and I got an odd email.  It was a notification of a Facebook message from an old elementary school friend, my Fifth Grade crush, someone I haven’t spoken with quite possibly since Middle School.  What was up with that?  She had messaged me about 20 minutes earlier, but we were so disconnected, that the notification didn’t push through right away.  She had seen me at the PBI Airport, or so she thought.  It had been over a decade, so she wasn’t sure if she recognized me.  Talk about the unfamiliar within the familiar.  I messaged her back to confirm that I had been there, and we exchanged a couple of messages throughout the night.

Then my brother and sister-in-law called, and we chatted with them for a while.  She spilled the beans on my trip to Machu Picchu next weekend.  I feigned umbrage, that she ruined the surprise, but my parents would have seen anyway when I closed out my Travelogue with “Next Stop: Peru.”  My mother soon went to bed, and I chatted with my father for another hour or so about the upcoming primaries.

He then went to bed, and I rested my eyes for about an hour before lighting up my Ardor and coming out to the balcony, where I proceeded to write this entry.  This whole thing was almost like a Seinfeld episode, I thought, and I wondered if this unfamiliar way of experiencing the familiar was to be my future, imaging my parents, like Jerry’s parents, moving to Florida and us only seeing each other when we flew back and forth between New York and Florida.  It was an odd thought.  On that note, I close.

Yucatan 2016: The Experience - Days 3, 4 - "Many Partings" and "The Return Journey"

1/18/15, “Many Partings”

Palenque, Chiapas, Mexico

Not long after I finish writing this entry, Roberto and I will part ways, and our trip has come full circle.  We are at a Mayan archaeological site not dissimilar from our first stop at Chichen Itza, and I am similarly writing my entry in view of the structure from the inscription photo.  It has been approximately 50 hours, but it feels as if we have been travelling together forever.  I will be back at my desk in about 20 hours, and back to my normal routines.  It has been a very enjoyable trip, and we have appeared to have done what Roberto initially thought unthinkable, visit all 6 sites in a three-day weekend.  After I finish this entry, I will leave Roberto in the town of Palenque and continue on the airport in Villahermosa, where I will connect once more at Benito Juarez.  That is familiar.  This trip, my first time in the tropical part of Mexico since I set out to see the world is unfamiliar, though not that dissimilar from some of my other trips to Central America.  In fact, a year ago today, I was in Belize.  A year from now, I will likely be in Haiti, which will be my last country to visit in North America.

There is not much to report since I closed in Escarcega last night.  Of course, we drank.  And smoked.  Roberto had his second cigar ever, a small H. Upmann, and a Destino Siglo for me, while we each swigged from our own half pint of rum.  Roberto thought that I might have been Cuban in a past life.  I offered instead maybe I used to be a pirate.  He liked that idea.  Meanwhile, I was messaging with my friends about different movie awards and the usual conversations.  I also played some various music from my laptop.

After the cigar, it was time to go bed.  There was just one small problem.  My phone was almost dead.  My laptop was almost dead.  We didn’t have enough outlets.  There was one outlet by the bed, which I needed for my sleep machine.  The only outlet I could use for my laptop was far from the bed, but Roberto needed it for his phone.  Once we got in the car in morning, I could charge everything, including the laptop, but I would need a decent charge on my phone in case I wanted to continue my conversations in the morning.  Well, I wound up charging my phone by the bed, while I was half asleep, until it got to a quarter charge, which I figured would last it until the morning.  Yes, that worked.

In the morning, we got ready and got in the car, where I was able to charge everything.  The album for today would be our final Taylor Swift album: Speak Now.  We were a little tight on time, but not too bad.  We stopped for gas by the highway, and there was a Burger King there, but it wouldn’t open until 9 AM.  We figured this would be our best chance for food, so we waited.  They only had lunch food.  Fine, that would do.  We got our food and hit the road.  The meal was quite good, and I lit up a Fuente afterwards.  We soon got to a border checkpoint to enter the state of Chiapas, which was far more extensive than any checkpoint we had seen so far.  I closed my eyes for a bit, and we were soon at Palenque.

Once we got there, we found the Plaque at the entrance and the Palace, which was featured in the inscription photo.  I lit up my Trinidad, my last one, and we took our ceremonial pictures.  Just as in Chichen Itza, Roberto wanted to explore some more, and I wanted to write my entry.  This time, we made sure we both were clear on where to meet.  I got my souvenirs and then headed to a bench in view of the Palace, where I sat down and proceeded to write this entry.  I was soon told I couldn’t smoke, just like in Chichen Itza.  Roberto was back before long, and I will now close so that I can finish my cigar and begin the return journey.

Carlos Rovirosa Pérez International Airport, Tabasco, Mexico (VSA)

Ah, at last, the triumphant airport entry.  I am now smoking a well-deserved Opus X Angel’s Share.  Other than a little adversity with the raw sewage, the trip has been a perfect success.  We are already planning our next trip.  After I closed, I relit the cigar, and we drove to the town of Palenque.  I wanted to finish or almost finish my cigar before I left him, and I had plenty of time.  He had even more time.  We hung around until it was time for us to leave.  We then took some ceremonial pictures as we planned future trips together.  It was the parting of the ways.  Yes, my astute reader, the title of these two past entries are taken from Lord of the Rings.  Roberto wants to come to New York in May, and I told him I’d take him to Philly and Boston if he comes, along with showing him around New York.  In the fall, we will do another trip together in Mexico.

There are only a few trips left for me in Mexico, possibly as few as three, but five max.  One of them could just be Cabo, which I want to save for my last trip, when I say Mexico complete.  I like the idea of, having visited every WHS in Mexico without going to the beach, flying into Cabo, taking a picture at the Plaque, announcing “Mexico Complete,” and then spending the rest of the weekend on the beach, finally.  There are also 2 other WHS in Baja California Sur, which are very hard to access and not at all near Cabo, nor close to a big airport.  There are 4 WHS left in Central Mexico, including the new one by Mexico City and two by Oaxaca.  That is probably doable in a weekend, easily doable in a 3-day weekend or split as two weekends.  That leaves the two by the border with the US.  That was the one we were discussing.  I would fly into El Paso, go across the border to Juarez, and we’d drive to both of them in the weekend before I flew home.  I had originally been planning on doing it by renting a car out of Phoenix.  We will figure that out.

There are, I believe 33 WHS in Mexico.  I started trying to complete them less than three years ago, and I now only have 9 left.  I will be going to the Bahamas in a few weeks, just an overnight stay when I visit my parents in Florida.  I will also need to revisit Jamaica to see the Blue Mountains.  I want to do the DR and Haiti, each with their own WHS and capital, as a 3-day weekend.  Then I need to do a trip to PR and the VI next year.  Also, my mother and I will likely visit San Antonio in the fall.  I have three or four more trips to Canada, too.  That’s it.  That’s all that’s required for me to be able to make my Hawaii trip the trip that allows me to say, “North America Complete.”

This has been the most grinding of all my travel goals, and there has been so much adversity and near misses along the way.  I’m thinking of my adventures with Fernando in Central America, my solo trips to Panama and Costa Rica, each with their own scares.  I’m thinking of how we miraculously managed to do Cuba Complete, despite Ernesto’s constant doubts.  However, I’m also thinking of the trips where I was mopey and depressed and could barely enjoy myself, just going through the motions.  I’m thinking of Belize and Carlsbad.

However, those are far outweighed by the good times.  I’m thinking of all the relaxing evenings I spent in the Caribbean, whether it was that unforgettable night in Kingstown or just enjoying myself at the hotel in Basseterre, not worrying about anything.  I’m thinking of the last great summer road trip adventure I took with my mother last summer, along with my extension in the Canadian Prairie.  I’m thinking of the Alaska/Canada trip I took with my friend the year before that.  I’m thinking of all the relaxing times I had in Canada and its natural beauty, whether it was 24 hours of daylight or the Northern Lights.  Those were the good times, and they more than enough to forgive a mopey weekend in Belize or an even mopeyer day driving from Alburqurque to El Paso.

I have just under 20 months to complete my goals, so I am definitely entering the home stretch.  North America Complete is definitely within sight.  Outside of North America, there are only eight or nine trips I need to take to finish my goals.  There are two to South America, one of which will be in a month to Peru, the other one for the Olympics this summer.  There are four to Europe, all of which I intend to take this year, Antwerp, Greece, London, and Rome.  There is also one to Asia, to see Everest, a second one if I decide to go to Iraq.  That just leaves the trip to Australia at the end of this year.

That means, if everything goes according to plan, I won’t need to leave the continent in 2017.  Oh, wait, the Iceland/Greenland trip.  Technically that is to fulfill North America complete, so I forgot to list it earlier.  That will be my big summer trip next year, but I consider Iceland to be at least half in North America, and all of Greenland is in North America.  There are some other trips I am considering for 2017, if time and money allows, such as Angkor Wat or the Galapagos Islands or Svalbard and the North Pole.  However, none of those are required to fulfill my goals.  It will be an exciting 20 months, and exhausting, too, I suppose.

Anyway, after I left Roberto, I finished my conversation with my friend about sequels and remakes and then got on the road.  I had forgotten to download Les Miz to my phone after I rebooted it, and that is my traditional last drive music.  That didn’t stop me, however, from lighting up my Avo, the traditional last drive cigar, and put on Avril Lavigne’s “Let Go.”  I had plenty of time, and I made even better time than GPS predicted, even as I had to manage the checkpoints on my own with my mediocre Spanish.  As I mentioned, earlier, I had trouble spending money this trip, and I had way too many pesos left.

When I got to the gas station, not far from the airport, I still had five largish banknotes left, worth a little more than the banknotes you would usually get from an ATM machine in the States.  I did not want to come home with that much in pesos.   I used one for gas, and I figured I’d buy some snacks to take home to use the rest.  I got as many snacks as I could carry.  It only came out to one of those banknotes.  I even got a new charger and aux cord.  Reader, this was enough for a small Super Bowl party, and it cost about the price of a case of beer.  How was everything so cheap?  Well, you gotta love the weak peso.

I was soon at the airport, where I found Dollar, Avis, and Europcar, but no Hertz.  Hmm.  I kept circling around and getting conflicting answer.  It was three hours before my flight, so I had time, but this was annoying.  Eventually I figured it out, actually by chance, that I had to drop off the car in a special parking lot (I had asked the attendant where Hertz was, and it turned out to be that lot) and then bring the car inside.  That worked.  I dropped off the keys and went to check-in while they checked the car.  I still had plenty of time, and I was starving, so I got a sandwich at the Subway inside the airport.  It was half the price of what I would have expected to pay at the Subway a block from my apartment.  After I closed, I headed outside and lit up my Opus.  I sat down on the bench, where I proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close so that I can finish my cigar and head to my gate.

Benito Juarez International Airport, Federal District, Mexico (MEX)

Well, isn’t that a familiar dateline!  In fact, other than “New York, New York,” it might be the most familiar one of all.  Other than my apartment or the cigar store, it might be the most familiar view for an entry.  This is the fourth time I have sat in this spot, with this view, and written an entry.  They have been four very different trips, but finding the familiar within the familiar, that’s what this Travelogue is about. The view is simple, but familiar, unlike the views from Kas, the Drake Passage, Jackson, or Alexandria, where I have previously smoked my 2013 Christmas Pipe.  There is no WHS that awaits me in the morning, just the rest of the return journey.  This will not be the last time I write from here, I don’t think.  I will write from here again at least once more, maybe two or three more times.

Each time I have written from here has been under different circumstances.  The first time, I fucked up, and didn’t check in before my entry, which led to me being denied boarding due to a late check-in.  The second time, I checked in first, and everything worked out right.  The third time was connecting back from Guadalajara, but I went through connections, which made leaving the airport a hassle.  This time, I went straight to the exit, and I got outside with no problem.  Actually, maybe that’s theme here.  These are in pairs, the first two times I was dropped off at the airport, the other two times I connect from another city.  Each pair, I messed something up the first time and learned better for the second time.

My previous entry was about the future.  This will be the reflective entry about the past, though there is not much left to write.  The first time I went to Mexico was a family trip to Cancun.  I made friends with a snorkeling instructor who had a dream of buying his own boat.  It was a small dream.  It is funny the things you remember from when your age was still in the single digits.  When I got home, I got a letter from Publisher’s Clearing House, one of those misleading letters that makes you think you won something.  Or maybe it was addressed to my parents, but they said I could have it.  My parents asked me what I would do with the money.  Among other things, I said I would buy my snorkeling instructor friend his boat.  My oldest friend, the same friend I went to Alaska with two summers ago, said it would be my parents’ money.  They agreed, I believe, if they won they’d by the snorkeling instructor his boat.  I remember my dad, after haggling, buying me a mariachi guitar, and maybe a sombrero.  I’m sure I still have it.  My brother just cared about going to the tiki bar where he could legally drink as a high school teenager and practice his Spanish while hitting on whoever caught his eye.  CFBS.  Always.

The next trip to Mexico came about 15 years later, though it’s hardly a trip to Mexico.  I was going to Los Angeles for a philosophy conference, and I figured I would, among other things, dip into Tijuana for an hour.  I went to the Casa de Habanos, where I got Mexican food and tequila delivered while I smoked my cigar.  I got another six cigars to bring back with me and had a box of Cohibas shipped to my office.  Thus begun the tradition of smoking a Cuban at every WHS and US National Park.  I was only supposed to be there for the weekend, but Hurricane Sandy turned that into a 7-day trip.  I was only supposed to visit 2 National Parks.  I wound up visiting 5 (or maybe 6), and I smoked a Cuban at each one.  That opened up the possibility of attempting to visit every US National Park as one of my goals.

The next trip was my first trip to Central Mexico, the first time I flew to Mexico on a plane by myself, the first trip with extensive driving, and my first trip with Enrique.  I wanted to do it all, an extensive trip to visit all the WHS in central Mexico.  That was not possible.  We had to omit the two in Oaxaca from that trip, but we saw everything else.  I also wanted to visit the Olympic Stadium and the Paricutin Volcano, a Natural Wonder of the World.  I couldn’t get inside the Olympic Stadium.  I would need to come back.  It was almost two years before I came back, timing it to coincide with a soccer match and the butterfly season so that I could also visit the Monarch Butterfly reserve WHS.  We threw in El Tajin for good measure, too, along with a picture in front of the legislative building.  I believe I even stayed at the same hotel as from the previous trip.  This time I booked Enrique privately, instead of through a tour group.

Enrique and I talked about another trip based out of Guadalajara.  He would meet me there, and we would attempt to visit all 8, I believe, World Heritage Sites in that region.  He thought it was impossible, but, with a little prodding, he agreed, though I’m not entirely sure he realized quite what I had in mind.  We did that six months later, and it was the first time I connected at Benito Juarez.  When we got there, he once more thought it was impossible.  More prodding, and he agreed to go through with it.  It was rough going, but it worked out in the end.  We then talked about going to the Yucatan in January.

Meanwhile, during that trip, I connected with Roberto, and he also expressed interest in doing the trip.  I knew I could not do it with both of them, and I decided it would be better to make the trip with Roberto instead of hiring Enrique to fly out to Cancun and work for me for three days as a tour guide.  I think I made the right choice.  That was this trip, as I have described, very different than the other trips, and the first time I have driven myself.  It has been a great trip, and I have had a lot of fun with Roberto.  We are both very much looking forward to our next trip together, whether it be to Boston or Chihuahua or Oaxaca.

There are 9 WHS left for me to visit in Mexico, and I have a feeling Roberto will accompany me to most of them.  I am now three-quarters of the way to saying “Mexico Complete.”  Once I finished the CA-4 trip in April 2014, I always knew that Mexico (and Cuba) would be the biggest impediment to attempting North America Complete.  When I finished Cuba, I saw the end in sight, and a week later, I did the Guadalajara trip, which brought me past the halfway point and made Mexico Complete seem obtainable.  This trip has brought me into the home stretch.

Anyway, after I closed, I headed through security, got a cappuccino, which I paired with some Oreos, and headed to the gate.  I tried to sleep on the plane, but I wound up reading the whole in-flight magazine instead.  I never read the whole thing, usually just skimming through it, always back to front, but this was actually an interesting issue.  I always collect the magazine.  I have a lot of them.  A lot.  We soon landed, and I stopped at the 7-11 to get a pizza and some soda, Diet Dr. Pepper. After that, I headed to my familiar spot, but, it was occupied.  NOOOOO!!!!!  There were two girls sitting there, but they soon got up.  I then sat down in my spot, where I lit up my 2013 Christmas Pipe and proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close so that I can figure out how to spend the remainder of the three hours I have before I need to head to the gate.  I suppose I’ll spend most of it the same way I did last time: trip planning and budgeting.

1/19/16, “The Return Journey”

Aboard Aeromexico 400, En route MEX-JFK

This is now the third time I have flown home on AM 400.  It should have been four times, but I checked in too late the first time in May 2013 and was denied boarding.  I almost missed my flight again today?  Why?  I had a 6-hour layover, and my connecting flight was on-time.  How could I possibly have almost missed my flight?  Well, it was out of sheer stupidity, and it is a very interesting story.

After I closed, I went to get a donut and some coffee.  Somehow I wound up with three donuts.  I ate two of them before I headed back outside to my spot.  I then lit up an Undercrown and worked on adjusting my budgeting and finances.  I had come in under budget on this trip, and I was pleased to see my budget was back on track after having overspent a bit at the end of last year.  I adjusted my trip list and updated my checklists.  I then moved on to my next task.

I wanted to figure out my trip to Peru to see Machu Piccu, and it was starting to look untenable if I wanted to do it as 3-day weekend with an overnight within the sanctuary.  I would either need to do it as a 4-day trip, which was not the best option, or do the site as a day trip from Cuzco, which was an even worse option.  Also, I only had internet on my phone, and it was hard to figure out the train schedules and such like that.  I would need my laptop to have internet to do it properly.  It is in less than a month now, so I need to start booking everything right away.

This is the least accessible of the New7 sites.  Petra is a bit tricky, as it is a bit of a far distance from Tel Aviv, but you can get there by car easily enough, maybe like 5 hours to the border with Jordan, and another 2 hours to Petra.  Taj Mahal is a 3-hour drive from Delhi, a major international airport.  The Great Wall is a 2-hour taxi drive from Beijing, also a major international airport.  Christ the Redeemer and the Colosseum are easily accessible from cities with direct flights from Kennedy (Rio and Rome).

Now, reader, if those don’t exactly sound like around the corner, they are nothing compared to Machu Piccu.  Lima has a direct flight from Kennedy, and you can then take a connecting flight to Cuzco.  From Cuzco, you must proceed by bus and train to the station at Machu Piccu.  Then you have to walk quite a bit to the site.  It is not easy.  Not at all.  Even if my entire goal for the trip was to take a ceremonial picture in the sanctuary and turn around, it would be very difficult to do that in a 3-day weekend, impossible to do it in 2-day weekend.  That doesn’t even allow time in Lima or Cuzco.  I hope I can do it as a 4-day trip with overnights in Lima, Cuzco, and Machu Piccu.  I would like that.  Otherwise, I’ll see what I can do about making it a 3-day weekend.

I gave up on figuring it out tonight, and I was dead tired.  I was no longer enjoying my cigar.  I left it in the ashtray and had the third donut.  I then proceeded through security and was disappointed to find the shop that usually sells cigars no longer sold them.  I headed to my gate.  It was about 12:30 AM at this point.  The flight was scheduled for 1:30 AM, but it got delayed until 1:55 AM.  I plugged in my electronics and sat down.  How then did I almost miss my flight?

I fell asleep.  I woke up with a start.  Where was everyone?  Oh no.  Did I miss my flight?  I raced to the counter.  Was I too late?  No, but if I had woken up 15 minutes later, I might have missed it.  I was the last one to board, and there was no room for my bag in the overhead at this point.  That would mean I had to gate check it.  Fuck.  The flight would be delayed, and I would have to wait for my bag.  That would mean I would probably be late to work.  Ugh.  I was supposed to be half an hour early.  Anyway, I took out my souvenirs, as I did want to risk losing/breaking them, and most of my snacks, as I did not want to risk them crushing and getting all over my suitcase.

I got on the plane, and fortunately there was room above the overhead for the snacks, souvenirs, and my computer bag.  To make matters worse, since I had slept for a full REM cycle, I was not at all tired.  That meant that I would have trouble sleeping on the flight.  I sat down in my seat, where I proceeded to write this entry, starting it while we were at the gate, and writing it nonstop through taxi and takeoff, surprised that I wasn’t made to put away my laptop.  Meanwhile, I tried to pick out some music.  I tried a couple of pop artists who looked good, but I didn’t like either of their music.  In the end, I settled on Jamie Lawson, one of my best friend’s favorite new artists, someone about whose music we have shared dozens of texts in appreciation.  Anyway, I will now close so that I can try to get some sleep.

En route, NYC Taxi 8B16

Nothing new to report.  I fell asleep quickly enough and then was woken up by the announcement that we were making our descent.  My bag came out quicky, and I cleared Customs easily.  I then went to the taxi line, and I got in the taxi, where I proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close so that I can publish Days 3 and 4 as a pair, along with closing out this trip.  Next stop: Florida to visit my parents, whom I haven’t seen in close to a month, along with a brief shot over to The Bahamas to check that off.