a Cheap Holiday

Cheap Holiday

Welcome to a cheap holiday in my life. At least you get to go home at the end of the day!

Sunday, February 17, 2002

The night before my departure to San Francisco and almost everything is arranged. I still need to call my apartment management office to make sure they leave a note with the complex gatehouse that my friend will stopping in to cat-sit. My cat always gets antsy when my suitcase comes out of the closet, because she knows it means that Mommy will be gone for who-knows-how-long. She either gets clingier, doing wicked things to grab my attention, or she hides in disgust and anger. On this night she's hiding, opting not to join me on the bed to sleep, per her usual habit. After balancing my checkbook, always a lesson in humility, I have to make the decision of whether to take my overnight bag in addition to the suitcase and the laptop bag. Kali intends to take me out shopping, so I'll need packing space for booty, but it means that I'll have to haul around another bag on my beleaguered shoulders. It's having to pack more than one pair of shoes that always puts the dent in my available packing space and it's almost impossible for me to get away with having only one style of shoes on a trip. I simply can't imagine having only my Born loafers to wear. I will certainly need athletic shoes to work out in the hotel fitness rooms and my heeled boots for the days I'm working. And naturally the 1940's retro style high heels must be packed for possible socializing. Damn, that's 3 pairs of shoes that must be packed in addition to the pair I'll wear most of the time. The overnight bag must be brought.

At 6am, I pop out of bed, brush my teeth, put in my contact lenses, feed and water the cat, pack my remaining toiletries, and close my cases. My kitty is still a bit sleepy, so I lavish many kisses and strokes on her before departing to the airport. I realize that with my plans to go to NYC the following weekend, I'll only be seeing her for 30 hours in the coming week. Man, she's going to be mad at me when she realizes that. I'll have to buy her a new toy to make it up to her.

My arrival at the Philadelphia airport is uneventful, until the computer system tags my e-ticket for a random security search. This doesn't perturb me until the rather young security agent carts my cases to a table at the end of the check-in desk and begins putting on latex gloves. Oh joy, he's going to totally go through all my things. Thank goodness I didn't pack anything really fun, like a vibrator! Would THAT have been embarrassing!


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