Level Orange

Not enough can be said about the dismal state of air travel in America. Security screening is a humiliating and confusing process. Normally, I plan for the chaos and dress appropriately: slip on shoes, no belt, minimal carry-on items, but a late night drinking row coupled with an early morning flight and the last-minute acquisition of a bulky delicate item was a recipe for fiasco. I am not a particularly well coordinated person on the best of days, and at 5 am after two hours of driving and a mere one hour of something vaguely resembling sleep, I had all the makings of a Lucille Ball sketch as I tried to untie my shoes, slip off my belt, remove my laptop from its case while juggling my photo ID, boarding pass, and a large rectangular hat box holding my grandfather’s fedora. I almost had it under control until I was told to remove my sweater, then everything went flying in all directions. I made a quick if not awkward recovery and settled myself at the gate.

And speaking of sleep, what is it about being on vacation that allows one to function on such miniscule amounts of sleep? I fear I am racking up some serious REM debt as I have had a total of 20 hours of sleep (and none of that would I consider ‘quality’) in the last 9 days. By my calculations, that puts me 52 hours in the hole. I fear I am on the verge of psychosis, which is a little vacation in and of itself. At least I will look sharp in my fancy new hat.