I’m sitting here at my desk, waiting for my Treo to finish syncing so I can yank it out of the cradle and check one more item off my “ultimate list of things I’ll hate myself if I forget to bring to Toronto.”
You’d think my cell phone would be a no-brainer, but, when it comes to leaving the house, I do in fact appear to have no brain whatsoever, because if it’s not on the list, it probably won’t make it out the door with me. It’s pretty sad.
Despite many years of living overseas as a kid (I spent most of my grade school years living in Sumatra, Indonesia), and all the travel we got to do on the cheap courtesy of my dad’s employment with Chevron in tandem with living overseas, this will still be my very first time in Canada.
Sure, I’ve been to a number of countries in eastern and southeast Asia, as well as a few in western Europe — not to mention Egypt — but for some reason, going to Canada is strangely exciting. Maybe because I haven’t left the States since I was 12 and we moved back here. 22 years in one country has gotta be some kind of record.
Anyway, it seems wrong somehow to be flying to another country on a regional jet, even if the thing is named after the country I’m flying into. At least it’s only about 3 hours total flying time, with a stop roughly halfway (in Cincinnati). Still, I could really use a comfortable seat with enough legroom that I don’t wind up tapping the guy in front of me on the shoulder and saying, “Hey, I just spent the last hour prodding your kidneys, and I simply have to tell you — you need to go see your doctor; I think you might have a stone in the one on the right.”
OK, that’s enough weird babbling for now. Catch ya on the flip side.