Welcome to Boston, where the local time is "Late."

Have you ever seen that movie Duets? It's nothing too special (although the soundtrack is FAB!), but Paul Giamatti's character is a traveling businessman, and in one of the opening scenes, he's on a business trip and goes to his meeting, starts the presentation, and (long story short) finds out he's in the wrong city. Ooops.

And now I understand how that could happen. I was on vacation last weekend, flew back very late Sunday night, and had less than 12 hours to turn around and leave again for a business trip to Boston. I've never felt so disoriented, and so disconnected from life and the world. Air travel is such a mentally draining activity, I found that I didn't really care about anything. I was just moving from one line to the next. Waiting, waiting, waiting, and waiting some more.

I don't want to see an airport or an airplane ever again. Which, of course, is an impossible dream, but its feeding my righteous indignation right now, which feels good. I'm embracing my self-pity at the moment. Its getting me through the day, which is a good thing, Martha, because I am in desperate need of the weekend.

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P.S. - All of this is not to suggest that I didn't enjoy my vacation or my business trip. Quite to the contrary. I just wish they'd invent the damn transporter already, so we could go from one place to the next with the sliding of a few curiously imprecise controls. Oh, how grand would life be, to have our molecules scattered across the airwaves.