Travelin’ Light

It seems only appropriate that this week’s topic is travel, and I find myself out of town for a very long weekend. As I’m sure I’ve mentioned before, I love to travel. I used to be a big fan of road trips but since I’ve bought a new set of wheels it’s just not the same. So I fly.

For probably close to 80% of my adult life I’ve been in a long-distance relationship (where I find myself again these days and the reason for my current out-of-townness). Everyone I know likes to give me a hard time about always finding myself in a situation where I’m removed from the one I love. They seem to think there’s a reason for it. (Am I afraid of commitment? Do I like my independence too much? Am I really *that* hard to live with? Yes.) Regardless of why it keeps happening, and as much as I’d love to live in the same city as a boyfriend for more than a few months, I *do* love to go visitin’.

My house has never really felt like home and a lot of that probably has to do with the fact I spend all of my furniture money on getting out of town. And my renovation money. And since I’m never around to make it feel homey, why should it? My sturdy blue Samsonite, that is waaaay bigger than those little metal boxes that they put by the gate for you to (theoretically) check the size of your carry-on, feels more like home anyway. I know the exact dimensions, the sizing of the pockets, and precisely how I can organize it to maximize space potential (winter is much tougher than summer, sweaters are thick!). I know the biggest purse I can bring and how to attach my water bottle (empty of course!) and tennis shoes to the outside to add even more items to my load. I’m an expert packing and repacking my laptop and quart-sized Zippie from my suitcase, and I think I can put any pair of shoes back on in a matter of seconds. And don’t even get me started on people who check a bag. I’m not sure why someone would ever do that (given the wait on the other end and the chance of loss), especially now that there’s a fee. Egads.

So, to make this short and sweet (it’s 3 am, and I still have two full days of Mardi Gras left), I am a huge fan of getting on a plane and gettin’ out of town. Boston: yep, I’ll do it, Go Sox. DC: Sign me up! New Orleans: Hey mister throw me some beads. Florida: Move out of my way, you’re blocking the sun.