We’re leaving on a jet plane for Denver in a few hours, and I’m excited in part because Denver is a city I’ve only seen once, a long time ago, but also because I love writing from hotel rooms. Nice TV on in the background, bed at easy access for naps or when I need to ruminate, broad desk and lovely view of somewhere else for quality pondering time. I can get some take out and type away over lunch. There’s something appealing to my creative side about writing from Somewhere Else, which is what we had in mind when we made the short-term move to Seattle. So a trip out of town is now a kind of hop to Somewhere Else’s Somewhere Else. And I quite enjoy that.
Airplanes and I, on the other hand, are not the best of friends. I’ve been stranded in the Twin Cities due to mechanical failure—not a bad place to spend the night, actually—I’ve been stuck in the Salt Lake Airport because of weather, on Christmas, of all days, and I’ve had my luggage lost I don’t know how many times. I broke my big toe running through Dulles Airport outside DC because the security line took two entire hours. But hey, there’s nothing like cabin pressure to keep the swelling down.
Fortunately, this is a direct flight. None of this two and three-legged journeys like when we’re leaving tiny Walla Walla. That’s one of the worst parts of living in an isolated town. By definition, it’s tough to free oneself of the place.
It’s time to finish packing. I’ll have some time to write a little for my NaNoWriMo project as I sit in the airport, but I can never manage to get my laptop fully open on an actual plane, so I’ll use the flying time to tool around on my iPad. Nothing like being addicted to technology.