F. Scott Fitzgerald once said, “I hate writing, but I love having written.”
I can say the same thing about traveling. I hate traveling, but I love having traveled.
I’m at 30,000 feet right now. Just passed over Belfast, Northern Ireland a few minutes ago. On my way back to New York after a month’s long stay in Lyon, France. An hour and a half of flying and we still aren’t even out of Europe. Another six hours to go. Are we there yet? I hate this.
Salsa is under the seat in front of me. Sound asleep. Wish I could do that. I’m in Premium Economy. Not a bad seat—on the aisle and no one beside me—except that these seats don’t recline. Great for my tired aching back. Pam, on the other hand is in the front of the bus in First Class with Gravy. Apparently Air France only allows two dogs on each flight—one in First Class and one in Economy, but none in Business Class. And of course, happy wife, happy life. There was no discussion about who got the First Class seat.
I can say the same thing about traveling. I hate traveling, but I love having traveled.
I’m at 30,000 feet right now. Just passed over Belfast, Northern Ireland a few minutes ago. On my way back to New York after a month’s long stay in Lyon, France. An hour and a half of flying and we still aren’t even out of Europe. Another six hours to go. Are we there yet? I hate this.
Salsa is under the seat in front of me. Sound asleep. Wish I could do that. I’m in Premium Economy. Not a bad seat—on the aisle and no one beside me—except that these seats don’t recline. Great for my tired aching back. Pam, on the other hand is in the front of the bus in First Class with Gravy. Apparently Air France only allows two dogs on each flight—one in First Class and one in Economy, but none in Business Class. And of course, happy wife, happy life. There was no discussion about who got the First Class seat.
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